


You Are The Blood

by menel



Category: Logan (2017) - Fandom, Wolverine (Movies), X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Guilt, Healing, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Post-Canon Fix-It, Pseudoscience, Reconciliation, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-05 21:16:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10317134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/menel/pseuds/menel
Summary: Logan finally knew what it meant to die...except he didn't.A post-Loganfix-it. Full spoilers for the movie.





	1. Is this a dream?

**Author's Note:**

> I loved _Logan_ and yet, I find myself compelled to 'fix' that ending. I've drawn from the comics in order to do so. Knowledge of the comics isn't necessary to understand the fic, but it helps. The title of the fic comes from the song of the same name by Sufjan Stevens. 
> 
> Will Logan get that happy ending after all? Read on to find out!

_“You still have time.”_

Logan was dreaming; Charles’s voice echoing in his mind like it used to when the most powerful telepath in the world had still been in control of his powers. But Charles was dead. Logan had buried him. Which meant that Charles couldn’t be in his head. It also meant that Logan couldn’t be dreaming because…well, he was dead too. You didn’t dream when you were dead. 

Did you?

Slowly, he opened his eyes. His eyelids felt unbearably heavy. He was greeted by the sight of an industrial ceiling and thankfully, soft lighting. Medical facility, his mind helpfully supplied. Logan had woken up in enough of those to recognize the antiseptic scent and the sterility of the environment, even without looking around. Not that he _could_ look around. His entire body felt like it had turned to stone, and he felt as though a great weight were pressing down on his chest. His breathing was disturbingly ragged.

Still, he sensed another presence in the room. Nearby. It took all his strength to move his head a few inches to the left to see his mystery companion. The sight was even more surprising than the sound of Charles’s voice or the idea that he’d been dreaming. If anything, his companion was definitive proof that he was in the afterlife. 

“Scott,” he breathed. 

The familiar face of Cyclops and his ruby quartz visor came closer to Logan’s bed. This Scott was older than the one Logan remembered. How many years had it been? Ten? No, more. Fifteen. But this Scott was still fit and still strikingly handsome. Not that physical appearance had ever mattered very much to Logan. His attraction to Scott had always run deeper than that. 

“Scott,” he repeated. “Yer not real,” he said, hearing the heartbreak in his voice. He tried to reach out to the apparition, but his limbs wouldn’t cooperate. 

It didn’t matter. The Scott-hallucination knew what to do, taking Logan’s weather beaten hand in his own and holding it firmly. Logan didn’t even have the strength to return the grip. 

“Sleep,” the hallucination said.

Logan inwardly smiled at the undercurrent of command in Scott’s tone. Cyclops hadn’t been the leader of the X-Men in many years, but the tone of command would never leave him. Logan remembered what it had been like to follow his orders, to be Cyclops’s right hand. He would’ve followed Scott to the very end, he thought, as his eyes drifted shut. But the end was never what you expected it to be.

* * * * *

The next time Logan woke it was to the sound of hushed voices. His body still felt like a dead weight and this time he didn’t even bother to open his eyes. He let the sounds wash over him, zeroing in on the only voice that mattered – the one that belonged to Scott.

Summers may have looked older, but he still sounded like himself. Logan listened to the familiar cadence, imagining the accompanying expressions to match Scott’s tone. The other man sounded agitated, but still tightly controlled. Scott had always been so tightly controlled. 

“Explain to me what’s happening,” Scott said. 

“I’m not a scientist,” was the reply. 

Logan didn’t recognize the second voice. Definitely younger than Scott, though. 

“I’m not asking for a scientific explanation,” Scott said patiently. “Based on your understanding of _your_ power, what do you think is happening?”

_Your power._

Another mutant. Scott was with another mutant. _Laura!_ his mind panicked. _What about the other kids? Where were they? Had they made it to safety?_ Logan struggled to open his eyes. 

“He’s waking up,” the unknown voice said. 

“Put him under.” 

“I’m not a doctor.” 

“You’re the closest thing we have,” Scott countered. “Put him under.” 

Logan never opened his eyes.

* * * * *

The third time Logan woke up he recognized another familiar scent in the room – sticky and a little sweet like melted candy, mixed with something more earthy and metallic.

 _Laura._

It was still hard to open his eyes, but he made the effort, turning his head to the right in the direction of his daughter’s scent.

Laura was there, dressed in a pair of yellow and pink pajamas, curled up and sleeping peacefully in a wide armchair. Logan immediately relaxed when he saw her. She looked well. Healthy. Safe. He heard footsteps entering the room and for some reason, his immediate reaction was to fake sleep. Through slitted eyes, he watched as Scott approached the sleeping girl. He felt a pang of fear for his former lover, the urge to warn Scott that Laura could be dangerous if she felt threatened or was surprised nearly overcoming him. 

He needn’t have worried. Laura opened her eyes at Scott’s gentle touch on her shoulder. There was something in her expression that told Logan that she’d known it had been Scott all along. _When did that happen?_ he wondered. _How long had he been here? Where was_ here? 

The questions were important, but not as important as the scene unfolding in front of him.

“Come on,” Scott was saying. “Let’s get you to bed.” 

“No,” Laura stubbornly replied, but there was no real defiance in her. As if proving Logan’s point, she added, almost pleadingly, “Just a bit longer.” 

_She trusted Scott_ , Logan realized, and the thought warmed him. Scott had always been good with kids, had known how to earn that trust.

Scott straightened up and looked down at her. “All right,” he agreed, after a moment. 

Logan had expected Scott to leave, but instead the other man moved closer to Laura’s chair. Laura also appeared to have expected Scott’s reaction since she shifted, making room for him as he sat down in the wide armchair and then she was climbing over him to settle in his lap. If Logan had had any control of his body, he might’ve fallen out of his bed in shock. As it was, he watched as Laura rested her head on Scott’s shoulder. She briefly made eye contact with him before shutting her eyes. _The little sneak_ , Logan thought, even as his mind couldn’t fully process what was happening. All he knew was that she had known he was awake and had wanted him to see. 

_See what?_

* * * * *

“Is this a dream?” Logan asked the perfect Scott-hallucination.

“Why would you think that?” Scott replied, as he adjusted the IV that fed Logan the nutrients that he needed. 

“It’s the only explanation I can think of,” Logan said, his voice raspy from disuse. “Otherwise, you’re all dead.” 

Scott sat down in the chair beside Logan’s bed. It was a smaller, narrower chair, the type often seen in hospital rooms. Where was the comfortable armchair that he’d shared with Laura? Had that been a dream too? 

“Many of us _are_ dead,” Scott agreed softly. “Our race is on the verge of extinction.” 

“But you’re not,” Logan went on, not even sure if he was making sense. _Not dead_ , he wanted to say. _You’re not dead._

Logan had thought that he’d lost Scott years ago, long before Charles had wiped out what was left of the X-Men and the school that he had devoted his entire life to in Westchester. That awful day when Scott had left the X-Men was burned into his memory. It had broken Charles’s heart, but by then the breach between them had been irreparable. Scott had always been like a son to the Professor and his departure (and those that had gone with him) had left a void in the school. Scott’s decision had also torn Logan apart, but he had chosen to stay and, in time, had been able to fill some of the void that Scott had left behind. 

“Genosha,” Logan rasped, fighting hard to stay awake. “I thought I lost you…again…in Genosha.” 

Scott was fiddling with something that Logan couldn’t see, a dial of some kind near the edge of his bed. 

“I was there,” he confirmed. “But I got out.” 

“Magneto?” 

Scott’s smile was soft and a little rueful. “He got out too,” he answered. “You should sleep,” he added, running his hand down the side of Logan’s bearded cheek. Logan would’ve leaned into the touch if he could. 

“Stop that,” he said. 

Scott removed his hand and Logan instantly regretted his words. That wasn’t what he’d meant at all. 

“Stop,” he tried again. “Putting me to sleep.” He’d felt the rush of fluid enter his IV. It was some kind of sedative. 

Scott’s expression grew serious. “The sleep helps your body heal,” he explained. “You aren’t healing the way you should.” 

_Tell me about it_ , Logan wanted to say, but he was already drifting off.

* * * * *

The next time Logan came to, Laura was standing beside his bed holding his hand. Her grip was firm.

“Where are we?” he said. It was a question he’d been meaning to ask for some time, but kept forgetting whenever he saw Scott. 

“Eden,” she replied simply. Then she smiled. 

Logan smiled back. And damn, that took effort. 

“Eden,” he repeated with a half sigh. 

It turned out that the place was real. Eden, like the Garden of Eden, maybe? It was supposed to be a safe haven for mutants and Scott was here, too. Maybe it was a paradise, after all.

* * * * *

There was a new person in the room. ‘New’ was a relative description. Logan recognized the scent. Vaguely. It was an older, more mature scent now, but he remembered when it was young and naïve, sweet and innocent. It was a cool scent, not quite as crisp as Storm’s scent of biting snow, but gentler and more delicate.

“Snowflake,” he said aloud. 

There was the rustle of a magazine being put down. 

“Now, that’s a name I haven’t heard in many years,” a woman’s voice said. “And only Pete was allowed to call me that.” 

“You look well, Illyana,” Logan said, as the face of Illyana Rasputin came into view. She looked more than well. She’d grown up to be a stunningly, beautiful woman. Seeing her made his heart briefly ache for her dead brother. 

“You’ve looked better, Wolverine,” she replied. 

“Age catches up with us all,” he deadpanned back. 

“Not if Scott has his way.” Illyana grinned. There was something in her expression that implied that Scott was used to getting his way. Logan could confirm that assessment from his own experience with the man.

“I better go get him,” Illyana went on. “He wanted to know as soon as you woke up.” 

Logan surprised himself by reaching out and grasping Illyana’s arm before she could move away. She also seemed surprised – whether by the gesture or because he had the strength to do it, Logan wasn’t sure – and raised a questioning eyebrow at him. 

“Where are we?” he asked. 

“Eden,” she replied. 

“I know that,” he said, not meaning to sound as impatient as he did. “But where exactly _is_ Eden?”

lllyana’s smile was disturbingly enigmatic. “I should let Scott explain that,” she told him. She gently tugged at her arm and Logan released her. “It’s good to see you getting your strength back,” she added. 

Logan watched her disappear into the hallway. She was right. He was feeling better. Stronger. More clear-headed. He was still nowhere near one hundred percent, but it was definitely a marked improvement from being at death’s door. (From being dead? He _had_ died, hadn’t he?) He reached for the control at the side of his bed that adjusted the bed’s angle. He’d just maneuvered himself to a sitting position when Illyana re-entered, this time accompanied by Scott and a man that Logan didn’t recognize. He knew the scent though. The stranger was the mutant that he’d heard Scott speaking to before, Eden’s resident ‘doctor.’ 

“How’re you feeling?” Scott said, immediately walking to his bedside. 

“Better,” Logan answered, truthfully. 

“You’re looking a lot better,” Scott agreed. Logan could hear the approval (and the relief) in his tone. “Logan, I want you to meet Christopher Muse,” Scott went on, gesturing to the dreadlocked, dark-skinned man on his right. “You have him to thank for…reviving…you.”

Logan reached out and shook Christopher’s hand. 

“You can call me, Triage,” Christopher said. 

“That’s quite a gift you have there, Triage,” Logan told him. 

“You were quite the challenge, Wolverine,” Christopher replied. “I’ve never had to heal anybody before that had their own healing factor.” 

“I meant bringing me back from the dead,” Logan clarified, because he distinctly remembered dying. 

“Ah, well…yes,” Christopher agreed, glancing at Scott briefly. He actually seemed embarrassed. “It’s not something I do often,” he admitted. “Reanimation is difficult and it only works when there’s still some life force left in the body, usually a significant amount of life energy. You only had a sliver of a life force left when we got to you, but Scott insisted that I try.” 

“We’re very glad you did, Christopher,” Scott interrupted. 

Logan wondered at Scott’s use of the word ‘we.’ Was he speaking for both of them? As if they were a couple? Or did he mean ‘we’ in a more general, collective sense? And _why_ was he over-thinking this? Over-thinking was not Logan’s territory. That belonged to Scott.

“You’re not out of the woods yet,” Christopher went on. “Reanimation doesn’t mean I have the ability to restore necrotic tissue. But in your case, my power combined with your healing factor – diminished as it is – helped restore most of those cells. You’re still not at optimum health, though.” 

“Well, I’m feeling better than I have in a long while,” Logan admitted. _Not since Westchester_ , was what he didn’t say. “If this is the best ya can do, I’m grateful.” 

Christopher nodded, but once more he glanced at Scott. Logan could sense that there was more he hadn’t been told yet and Christopher was deferring to Scott in that area.

“We’re working on a way of flushing the poison out of your system,” Scott said. “The adamantium skeleton is permanent, but your healing factor can’t cope with the adamantium poison that’s somehow been injected into your body. Forge says the poison’s been slowing killing you for over a year now.” 

“Forge is still around, huh?” 

“He’s the one that designed the cloaking system that protects this facility,” Scott explained. “If he can’t get the adamantium out of your bloodstream, or if your healing factor doesn’t revert to what it was before once the poison is out, Forge has come up with an implant to keep track of the levels so that they’re manageable.” 

“Did it ever occur to you, Summers, that maybe I don’t wanna live forever?”

Scott’s smile was wry and all too knowing. “You’ve long sought death, Logan,” he said, as if they were the only two people in the room. “But maybe now you have something to live for again.” 

Everyone present must’ve known that Scott was referring to Laura, Logan’s cloned daughter, but Logan couldn’t help but wonder if Scott may have been referring to other things as well. _There’s still time_ were the Professor’s words. Was there, Logan wondered? Was there still time for he and Scott to try again? Would Scott even be interested in that?

Magik discreetly coughed. She gave Triage a look that indicated they were no longer needed (or possibly wanted) and motioned to the door. Triage nodded in return and said to Logan, “Good to see you finally awake, man.” 

“It’s good to finally _be_ awake,” Logan agreed. “Thanks again.” 

“No problem. We’ll talk more later.” Triage turned to Scott and gave the other man a quick nod.

Logan wondered if Triage was part of the team that Scott led now. It was inconceivable to Logan that Scott _didn’t_ have a team. Some part of Logan would always consider Scott to be an X-Man – the _first_ X-Man – no matter how things had ended. 

Magik gently touched Scott’s elbow. “Meeting at three,” she said quietly, as if Scott would need reminding. 

Scott leaned a little towards her and said, “Of course.” 

Logan began to wonder at the nature of Scott and Illyana’s relationship, too. There seemed to be something almost intimate about their exchange. Or maybe that was his overactive imagination and innate territoriality when it came to his former leader.

“Let’s go, Triage,” Illyana said, grasping the other man by the arm and walking to the door. 

“So, those two,” Logan heard Triage say, even though the other man had lowered his voice to a whisper, as they left the room. 

“What about them?” Magik asked. 

“I mean, they were…you know.” Christopher trailed off. “They have _history_ ,” he said at last. “Did you feel that back there? I thought the room was going to explode from the intensity.” 

“They have _a lot_ of history,” Magik confirmed, and Logan could hear the smile in her voice.

“So…” Christopher needled. 

“You realize that he can hear us?” 

“Who?” 

“Logan.” 

“We’re out in the hallway,” Triage said, incredulously. 

“Hyper-senses,” Magik answered. 

“Aw, fuck.”

That marked the end of the conversation, or at least until Christopher deemed that they were out of earshot of Logan’s hyper-senses. Logan returned his attention to Scott, who must’ve known what he’d been doing. 

“Eavesdropping?” Scott asked, a little teasingly. 

“Triage is curious about us,” he said in return. 

“He’s always been like that,” Scott said. “He’s a good kid.” 

“Not really a kid anymore, is he?”

“No,” Scott agreed. “None of them are kids anymore.” 

They fell into a comfortable silence until Logan broke it by asking, “So, what happens now?” 

“I thought you might be feeling a little cooped up in here,” Scott replied. “If you’re feeling up to it, I could give you the grand tour.” 

“How long have I been here?” 

“Seven days.” 

“Triage has been working on me all that time?” 

“You were in bad shape by the time we got to you.” 

“You mean, I was dead.”

Scott’s expression softened. “What was that like?” he asked, somewhat curiously. 

“A relief,” Logan admitted, before he could stop himself. 

Scott nodded, his expression contemplative. “Are you sorry that I brought you back?” he said, leaving no doubt that everything that had happened to Logan since his “death” had been Scott’s doing.

Logan didn’t answer right away. It had taken him days, drifting in and out of consciousness, before he realized that what was happening to him was real and not a dream, a hallucination or some twisted vision of the afterlife. Eden was real. Scott was real. Laura was safe. 

“Too soon to tell,” he said at last. “You’ll have to help me make up my mind.”

The slow curve of Scott’s lips meant that he’d accepted Logan’s challenge. “Relying on my powers of persuasion?” he questioned. “That practically gives me an unfair advantage.” 

Logan couldn’t help but grin at the familiar banter. Already, it was easy to fall into old habits. After the early days of their antagonism and their ridiculous (Logan could admit it now) rivalry over Jean, their relationship had developed an easy give and take. It had taken Logan years to break through Scott’s professional veneer, but once he had done so, he understood why Jean had fallen in love with the Boy Scout. (Not that the term ‘Boy Scout’ applied to Summers anymore. ‘Mutant revolutionary’ was the phrase most associated with him now.) Getting through Scott’s defenses only meant that Logan had fallen deeper into Summers’ gravitational field and by then he knew there was no going back, no pretending that Scott hadn’t become the most important person in the world to him. 

Scott Summers had been a turning point in Logan’s life; a relationship that had defined him, right up until the day that Scott had walked out of his life and Logan had chosen not to follow. Logan had closed that door, believing it to be the end, had been certain of it when news had broken of the annihilation of Genosha. 

But now Summers was back in his life – had brought him _back to life_ – and it seemed like their story wasn’t over yet, that maybe more chapters could be written. 

“It’s good to see you, Scott,” he said. 

“You too, Logan.”


	2. Life in Eden

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Logan said in disbelief. 

“I figured you’d recognize this place once you were out of the med bay and had a look around,” Scott answered. 

“Yeah, I recognize this place, all right,” Logan said, still not quite over the shock. He recognized where they were. He just couldn’t wrap his head around it. “Ya turned an old Weapon X facility into your base of operations?”

“It was the last place S.H.I.E.L.D. would ever think to look for me,” Scott explained. 

“Ya got that right,” Logan agreed. “But _Weapon X_?” 

“You were the one who told me we should move to Canada,” Scott pointed out. 

Logan laughed in spite of himself. “This ain’t what I meant, Cyke,” he said.

“I know,” Scott conceded, pushing Logan’s wheelchair past the windows of the viewing room. “But it’s turned out pretty well.” 

The old Weapon X facility was essentially a bunker, built into a mountainside. It was a large, multi-level facility, with the majority of the levels located underground. However, Scott had expanded the facility, constructing several levels above ground that opened onto a view of the pristine landscape. 

“It’s not healthy to be cooped underground,” Scott said.

Logan could relate. He’d also noticed the wide holographic screens featuring nature scenes constructed into the walls of the sub-levels to give the impression of space and the outdoors. The lighting in the residential quarters and some other areas of the facility was also designed to mimic daylight patterning. In fact, aside from the general layout, there was very little of the Weapon X facility that reminded Logan of his time there. The medical and torture chambers, the tiny holding cells – all of it had been stripped away or converted into something else, something more productive. There were now recreation rooms, sporting facilities, training facilities, laboratories, hydroponics bays, workrooms, and comfortable living areas.

“So, ya converted an abandoned Weapon X facility…into what?” Logan questioned. “What is this place? A school? A training camp?” 

“Eden is whatever our species needs it to be,” Scott said, taking Logan back out into the hallway. “Until Laura and her friends came, we didn’t have any students for a long time. Mostly, Eden is a sanctuary, a safe haven for mutants and their families.”

 _One of the last safe havens in the world_ , Logan thought, _for their dwindling species_. 

“Ya still run missions, though,” he said, after a moment. 

“From time to time,” Scott conceded, but Logan could hear the tightness in the other man’s voice.

The ‘missions’ weren’t something that Scott was prepared to discuss. At least, not yet. Logan wasn’t going to push, not when things were so comfortable between them. It was their honeymoon period, before all the old scars would come back to haunt them. 

“So, where we headed now?” he asked instead. 

“Lunch,” Scott replied. “I’m hungry and you must be starved.” 

“No argument from me,” Logan agreed. As if on cue, his stomach growled loudly.

* * * * *

Logan had very mixed feelings about being pushed around in a wheelchair. On the one hand, he adored how much care and consideration Scott was showing him. He loved the idea of Cyclops ‘fussing’ over him, even if Scott’s idea of ‘fussing’ was still very practical and no-nonsense. (Logan knew him well enough to read between the lines.) On the other hand, he railed against the weakness and invalidity of being in a wheelchair. And a deeper, darker part of him that he wasn’t prepared to acknowledge yet was also disturbed by the similarities to Charles’s last days. Neither he nor Scott had brought up Charles Xavier yet, but Logan knew that it was only a matter of time.

Whatever his feelings about the wheelchair, Logan recognized that he wouldn’t have been able to get around Eden without it. Although he was feeling better and stronger than he had in days (hell, at least he was _conscious_ ), a few unsteady steps in his room in the med bay made it clear that he wasn’t going to get very far on his own two feet. The wheelchair was necessary. 

As Scott wheeled him down what Logan presumed to be the direction of the cafeteria, another familiar – but unwelcome – scent assailed his senses. 

_Sabretooth._

Logan immediately tensed and he had to tap down on his fight or flight instinct. (In Sabretooth’s case, it had always been ‘fight.’) The big mutant was walking down the hallway in their direction. Logan realized with dismay, as Sabretooth slowed his steps, that his old rival was looking for Scott. Sure enough, Scott brought his wheelchair to a stop as Sabretooth reached them. Logan felt Sabretooth’s gaze sweep over him and he’d never loathed his weakness more. It was one thing to show weakness in front of Cyclops, who’d seen him at his very worst, but it was something else to show weakness in front of his bitter rival. Sabretooth hadn’t aged a day. Logan felt geriatric next to him. As if sensing his turbulence, Scott shifted his right hand from the handle of Logan’s wheelchair and onto Logan’s shoulder. It was meant to be a comforting gesture, and Logan found some of the tension draining from his body. He eyed Sabretooth warily, but the big mutant had already lost interest in him, his attention focused solely on Cyclops. 

“Magneto’s been held up,” Sabretooth reported. “Says he’s gotta stay there a few more days.” 

“Did he say why?” 

“Nope.” 

“Does he need back up?” 

“Didn’t say that either.”

“Of course,” Scott said, his tone indicating that this was a familiar song and dance. He paused before saying, “Go to him. Take Monet with you. See what he needs. Report as soon as you land.” 

Sabretooth gave Cyclops a curt nod before he continued on his way, barely sparing Logan another glance.

Logan spoke as soon as they resumed their walk, aware that Sabretooth’s enhanced senses would pick up their conversation. 

“You best buds with that animal now?” 

“I wouldn’t go that far.” 

“But ya let him stay here?” 

“I told you that Eden is a sanctuary for _all_ mutants,” Scott reminded him. “Sabretooth’s been here for a while.” 

“And who keeps him in line?” 

“Magneto, mostly.” 

“And who keeps Magneto in line?” 

“I do.”

Scott stopped in front of two wide double doors. Logan could tell from the sounds of voices and the aroma wafting through the doors that the cafeteria was on the other side. 

“Erik’s mellowed out over the years,” Scott said. “But don’t tell him I said that. It’s the same with Victor. He isn’t the bloodthirsty animal that you remember.” 

“But the danger’s always there,” Logan pointed out. “Those instincts don’t go away.” He knew that from firsthand experience. 

“True,” Scott agreed. “But the world isn’t what it used to be either. People _can_ change. Eden is a place where you can start again.” 

Logan remained silent. He’d heard an echo of what he’d said to Charles not so long ago in Scott’s words – the world _was_ a different place. But he’d said those words to Charles in a different context too, in a world that was bleak and devoid of hope, at a time when he’d been living and caring for someone else because his own life no longer had meaning. Eden and Laura changed all that. Scott could change all that.

* * * * *

Scott had chosen a table for them at the far end of the cafeteria. Logan recognized that the decision was strategic. It gave them privacy, but it was also a good vantage point. Logan could survey the whole cafeteria from where he was sitting and that’s precisely what he did. He hadn’t asked Scott what the population of Eden was, but it seemed healthy to him. He hadn’t seen this many mutants in one place since…

The cafeteria wasn’t bustling though. He and Scott were having a late lunch, not that Logan knew what the regular hours at Eden were like. Checking the wall clock, Logan calculated that they had a little over an hour before Scott’s 3:00pm meeting, whatever that was about. He let the chatter of the voices wash over him. He barely knew anyone at Eden, save for Laura and her friends, Illyana and Triage, and now Sabretooth. But he also knew that Magneto was still around, as was Monet, since Scott had referenced her by name. Monet St. Croix. Logan hadn’t known her very well, but he wasn’t surprised to learn that she was here. Monet was an assassin, a survivor. She fit Scott’s more militant profile as a mutant revolutionary. There were people who would call Scott Summers a terrorist now, and it wasn’t for nothing that he had been on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s watch list. Although Logan barely knew anybody, everybody seemed to know him. He’d heard his name whispered throughout Scott’s tour of the facility and it continued to be said in hushed voices and murmurs now. _The Wolverine_. His reputation had preceded him. 

When Scott returned and placed a tray in front of him, Logan shot the other man an accusing look as Scott slid into his seat in front of Logan. 

“This your idea of lunch?” he groused. 

“Let’s not shock your system with beer and steak just yet,” Scott replied dryly. 

Logan grumbled a bit more but he was too hungry to keep complaining. This was the first bit of solid food that he’d eaten in over a week. If he had to make do with chicken soup, some boiled veggies and fruit, so be it. Scott seemed to be commiserating with him since he’d gotten exactly the same meal for himself, although Logan was fairly certain that there were other choices available. Then again, Scott had always been a very healthy eater.

They were halfway through their meal when two familiar faces entered the cafeteria and headed straight for the dessert table. Logan watched as the two women each picked up a serving of pie and a cup of coffee before settling at a table. A few moments later, Sabretooth came in as well and walked right up to them. 

“Been looking for you,” he told the raven-haired woman. “Cyclops wants us to check up on Magneto.” 

“As if Magneto can’t take care of himself,” the woman replied, spearing a piece of pie. 

“ _Now_ , Monet,” Sabretooth pressed.

Monet only laughed. “You’re cute when you’re angry,” she teased. “Sit down, Victor,” she said, gesturing to the seat beside her. “There’s time for pie. Cyclops is right over there and I don’t see him chasing us out of the cafeteria.” 

Sabretooth growled in annoyance, but he grudgingly sat down. Even from this distance, Logan could smell the attraction on the other mutant and he inwardly smiled. It seemed like Magneto wasn’t the only tool at Scott’s disposal to keep Sabretooth in line. 

“Watching you two flirt is making me lose my appetite,” the other woman said. 

“I’m not sure you can call what Victor does, _flirting_ ,” Monet replied with another laugh.

Those were the last words Logan heard before he tuned out the rest of their conversation. “Is that who I think it is?” he asked Scott, gesturing to the threesome seated at the other end of the cafeteria. 

Scott followed the direction of Logan’s gaze. “You mean Martinique?” he questioned. 

“I s’ppose Lady Mastermind has changed her tune too?” 

Logan remembered all the run-ins the X-Men had had with Martinique in the past. She was an even more powerful illusionist than her father.

“You could say that,” Scott said. “Together with Forge’s cloaking system, Martinique’s illusions protect Eden. She’s cast a wide net for any unwelcome guests who wander too close to our borders.” Scott polished off the last of his broccoli before continuing, “The old dichotomy of heroes and villains doesn’t really hold true anymore. More than ever mutants live in the fringes or have been driven underground. Governments have legalized genetically modified crops to all but exterminate the X-gene. Mutant births are practically non-existent. As incredible as it sounds, I’ve united what’s left of our people here. Pushed to the brink, survival is the only common cause, and I will do what it takes to protect them.”

Logan leaned back. This was the Scott that had slowly been radicalized over time, that had done more and more to protect his people, that had moved further away from Charles’s dream of peaceful co-existence. He found that he had neither the strength nor the desire to argue with him, not after what he’d seen of Eden so far. (He also got the sense that Scott hadn’t shown him everything yet, that Eden may contain some dark secrets of its own.) 

“Call it what ya want, Cyke,” Logan said lightly, picking up a slice of apple. “I can recognize a black ops team when I see it.” 

Scott’s smile was wry. “From personal experience, I imagine,” he said. 

Logan inclined his head, an acknowledgement of a time when he had run X-Force for Cyclops.

* * * * *

After his first day regaining consciousness, Logan developed a routine. Much to his chagrin, he still had to stay in the med bay for possibly another week.

“What for?” he’d asked testily. 

“So, we can keep monitoring you,” Scott had patiently replied. “Forge is still working on the device to flush the poison out of your system, but in the meantime, you have to regain your strength. He says the procedure is intense. If you don’t get stronger, your body might not be able to take it.” 

“Yer saying the procedure might kill me.” 

“Not funny, Wolverine,” Scott returned, but he was smiling.

So, Logan stayed in the med bay for a few more days. Scott brought him a healthy stack of books (because contrary to popular belief, Logan _liked to read_ ), including some science fiction classics. To his surprise, Logan also had a steady stream of visitors. (He wondered if that was Scott’s doing as well. It seemed like the sort of thing Scott would do.)

Triage came to see him every day, which was to be expected. He was still ‘working’ on Logan. The wound in Logan’s abdomen had been particularly tricky, and for a while Christopher had feared paralysis, since the tree had sliced through some of the nerve endings in Logan’s spine and the level of necrotic decay had been high. Paralysis was off the table now, but Triage was frustrated that he couldn’t get the limp out of Logan’s right leg. 

“It’s like there’s this massive adamantium blood clot that I can’t get rid of,” Christopher said. “Honestly, dude. Your healing factor should be taking care of this. You know how many times I’ve had to work on Sabretooth since he got here? _Nada_. None.”

At Logan’s dark, warning look, Christopher looked suitably chastised. “Sorry, man,” he apologized. “Not a good comparison. But those guys really fucked you up. I’ve never seen anything like this.” 

It was at that moment that Logan realized that Triage didn’t know what had happened to him. Admittedly, he and Scott hadn’t discussed it either, but surely Summers must’ve known. For whatever reason, Cyclops wasn’t willing to share that information with his subordinates, allowing them to think that Dr. Rice and his Reavers had ‘fucked him up.’ It was true…to a certain extent.

While Christopher’s visits were to be expected, Logan hadn’t counted on Triage eventually bringing his teammates with him as well. Logan met his closest friends – Eva Bell (Tempus), David Bond (Hijack) and Fabio Medina (Goldballs) – and learned how they’d all been saved by Cyclops and Magik when they’d first come into their powers. They’d arrived at Eden at almost exactly the same time. 

“Back then it was called the New Charles Xavier School,” David said. “It was changed to Eden later…when there were no more students.” 

“The New Charles Xavier School,” Logan repeated, feeling a dull ache in his chest.

Scott had never really abandoned the Professor and his dream. The proof was right in front of Logan. These four adults – still children compared to him – were X-Men. Maybe they’d never used that name, but Logan knew that Scott and Illyana had trained them personally, and that they’d shared the Professor’s dream and vision with them. They _were_ X-Men, whether they knew it or not. 

Illyana was also a regular visitor. Logan was glad of her company. It was evident to him that she was the second in charge after Cyclops. He had to admit that he’d been surprised when Illyana had chosen to leave Westchester to go with Scott’s group, especially since her brother had stayed behind. But Illyana was at peace with her decision. Logan could tell that she was happy. She’d stayed with Cyclops all these years, showing the kind of faith and devotion that Logan had once had. But if Magik had become Cyclops’s right hand, where did that leave Magneto? It was a question that Logan posed to her one morning. 

“Magneto is more like,” Illyana began thoughtfully. “He’s more like Scott’s advisor now.” 

“And the power-hungry megalomaniac is okay with that?” Logan said, dubiously. 

Illyana laughed. “Erik’s mellowed out over the years,” she replied. 

“Scott said the exact same thing.”

“It’s true,” Illyana confirmed, smiling brightly. Then she sobered. “The turning point for Magneto was Genosha. We all barely got out alive. I don’t think he ever recovered from the brutal annihilation. It struck too close to home for him. Since then he’s deferred to Scott’s leadership. He admires the kind of leader Cyclops has become.” 

Logan’s other regular visitor was Laura. Sometimes Rictor came with her, sometimes the whole cabal. Logan was rusty when it came to dealing with kids, but he’d always been pretty good with them. Not as good as Scott, but still pretty darn good. For some reason, kids never fell for the Wolverine’s gruff exterior.

Laura was doing very well. They all were. Having kids in Eden again had boosted the community. It was like re-opening a school. The kids were taking classes and also learning how to use their powers properly, not merely as weapons to be exploited by a private company. It was the first time these children were being treated like human beings, and like _children_ who deserved a proper _childhood_. Their innocence had been ripped away by Zander Rice, but Eden could offer them safety and a semblance of normality. They could just be kids here, and experience all the things that kids their age should – both the good and the bad. 

But the visit Logan most looked forward to was Scott’s, who always came to see him at the end of the day. They would usually go out to one of the viewing decks to watch the sun set. Scott had always had the ability to put him at ease. Just the other man’s presence could calm him, and distance and time had not diminished that effect. 

On the fifth day, Scott handed him a cane and said he should try walking.

“About damn time,” Logan agreed, practically snatching the cane from the other man's hands.

His right leg still ached, and he could appreciate Triage’s frustration at being unable to heal it fully. The limp, when he walked, was pronounced, but it was still good to be up and about. The walk that day to the viewing deck took longer than usual, but Scott didn’t seem to mind. He stayed close to Logan, occasionally touching Logan’s elbow for support. There had been a time when Logan would’ve refused any kind of help, but now he found himself willingly accepting it. He craved Scott’s touch and his proximity.

When they reached the viewing deck, Logan was a little out of breath. Behind the ruby quartz glasses, Scott arched an inquiring eyebrow as if to say, _Too much exercise?_ Logan brushed him off and slumped into what had become his favorite sofa. When an ice-cold beer was held out in front of him, he shot Summers an incredulous look. 

“Now you’re spoiling me,” he said, at the same as he accepted the proffered beer.

“You’ve earned it,” Scott said, holding his own bottle of beer as he sat beside Logan. 

They were just in time for the sunset. Logan popped open his beer bottle with one of his claws (he opened Summers’ bottle as well) and savored the cool liquid as it traveled down his throat. _Life was good_ , he thought. Almost perfect. Which was when Summers decided to ruin the moment.

“I looked for you,” Scott said into the comfortable silence of the room. “After Westchester.” 

Logan glanced at his companion sharply, but Scott was looking straight ahead into a sunset that he couldn’t fully appreciate. 

“If anybody could’ve survived that, it would’ve been you,” Scott went on quietly. 

“You know what happened there?” Logan asked, in equally quiet tones. “What _really_ happened?” he added, thinking of all the bullshit that had been spewed by the media. _They_ hadn’t known what had really happened.

“The spike in Cerebra was unmistakable,” Scott answered, confirming something Logan had suspected. 

Scott had constructed a counterpart to Cerebro here, probably in one of the sub-levels that Logan hadn’t seen. Scott would know how to do it, and Forge possessed the technical expertise. But who wielded Cerebra? Logan wondered. Who was Scott’s resident telepath that was powerful enough to do so?

“Charles had already been diagnosed with the early stages of dementia,” Logan admitted, feeling a great weight lift off of him. He hadn’t shared his burden with anybody and this felt right, finally talking about his struggles with the one person who would truly understand. “He was on medication to manage the memory loss and other symptoms, but we weren’t prepared for the seizures. Westchester,” Logan halted, briefly unable to continue. Images flashed back to him of that devastating day, when everything had been lost because of a powerful, uncontrollable attack. 

“Westchester,” he said again, when he’d regained his composure. “Westchester was his first seizure.” 

Logan didn’t have to say any more. Scott knew what that meant. And there were no words to describe the magnitude of the tragedy. 

“Did Charles know what happened?” Scott asked, after a long while had passed. 

The sun had already set and the room was falling into darkness. Pretty soon, the soft ambient lighting of the viewing room would switch on. 

“No,” Logan answered. “I kept that from him for as long as I could. He resented me for it, drugged up on meds that I could barely afford, day in and day out. But it was the only way I could protect him from himself, and protect others from him.” 

“Did he go peacefully?” 

“Scott –” 

“I _need_ to know.” 

“Maybe not peacefully,” Logan said, thinking of how Charles had been murdered by his own clone – Weapon X-24. “But he found peace at the end. It was his idea to bring Laura here. He believed in this place. He would’ve been proud to know that Eden is your doing, Scott.”

Logan could see the fine line of tension radiating from Scott’s shoulders. This wasn’t what Scott wanted to hear and so he dropped that topic…for now. 

“On his last night, we stayed with a good family – the Munsons. I knew it was a risk, but I didn’t think Transigen would track us that quickly. And Charles, he was so persistent. I knew he needed the rest and so did Laura, so against my better judgment, we stayed.”

Logan didn’t know how much of this story he should tell. It had a brutal ending, and Scott must’ve already figured that out. He didn’t want to linger on the Professor’s murder or the Munson family’s murder. That wasn’t the point. The point was that Charles had had a good night, had been surrounded by good people, had remembered what family was like, and had been loved. _This is what living is_ , Charles had told him. _You still have time_.

“I’m sorry,” Scott said, before Logan could continue. “I’m sorry you had to go through all of that alone. I should’ve tried harder to find you. But for some reason your signature doesn’t appear on Cerebra anymore and the girls – they couldn’t find Charles either.” Scott paused and Logan smelled the faintest scent of saltwater in the air. Tears, still unshed. 

Scott took a deep breath. “It should’ve been me,” he said. “It should’ve been me, caring for Charles in the end.” 

“No,” Logan said vehemently, not even sure what he was objecting to. “This isn’t your fault. This isn’t anyone’s fault – except for those fuckers at Transigen,” he muttered under his breath. “This is just the way things are,” he said in a louder voice. “Bad shit happens. All the time. You know that as well as I do.” 

“That’s why we do our best to prevent it, don’t we?” Scott said softly.

“Some things we can’t prepare for,” Logan answered. “Scott,” he said, grabbing the other man’s arm roughly and forcing Scott to face him. 

For the first time, Logan was seeing things from Scott’s perspective. He’d been so pre-occupied with his own recovery, with his own grief, with the relief of knowing that Scott was alive and that Laura was doing well, that he hadn’t really considered anything from Scott’s point of view. He hadn’t considered Scott’s own guilt (and the man was a master at self-loathing and self-doubt) or the fact that Logan was probably a living, breathing reminder of Scott’s own perceived failure. In the end, Scott believed that he had failed Charles Xavier, his mentor and his father figure. 

“When I was standing over the Professor’s grave,” Logan said forcefully, “all I could think of was you. What you would say at that moment, what you would do. You were always the best measure of everything I do. I could never replace you, Scott. Charles loved you right until the very end. I _know_ he did. And you must too.”

More than ever, Logan wished he could see behind the ruby quartz lenses. What he saw instead was a single tear roll down Scott’s cheek. 

“That doesn’t change the fact that I was too late,” he said. 

“Too late?” Logan barked. “You _saved_ Laura and her friends. You brought them here. You brought me _back from the dead_. I don’t think there’s more you could’ve done.” 

But Scott simply shook his head and averted his gaze. Even as Logan spoke, he knew why Scott felt the way he did. He and Charles had run out of time. There was no way to put back what had been lost. 

“Charles fucked me up,” Logan said, changing tactics. “The adamantium poisoning? The reason my signature doesn’t appear on Cerebra? But I think you already knew that. That first attack? It almost killed me too. My healing factor hasn’t been the same since. Every time Charles had an attack, he was poisoning me that little bit more, but I never blamed him. That wasn’t something he could control, and who else could’ve cared for him in that state? I’m _glad_ you weren’t at Westchester. You would’ve died there, just like everybody else.” 

There. He’d said it. He’d said the awful truth out loud. 

“Scott.” 

Slowly, Scott turned to look at him and Logan eased his grip on the other man’s arm.

“Charles told me that I still have time,” he said, almost tenderly. “I didn’t believe him then, but being here with you and Laura….” Logan trailed off. “Maybe he’s right.”

* * * * *

It turned out that Logan’s new walking cane and a cold beer weren’t Scott’s only surprises for the day. After the unexpectedly intense and heartfelt conversation in the viewing room, Scott led Logan to the residential quarters of the facility and into a proper dining room where a group of people was waiting for them.

“You need to get out more,” Scott said off-handedly as he led Logan to his seat. “You know, socialize.” 

Logan merely gave him an amused look, as if he had had any choice in the matter.

Laura was already there, as were all her friends, and she positively beamed at him as Logan sat down beside her. The other guests included Illyana, Triage and his group of friends, the nursing staff that had been taking care of him and a few other people that Logan didn’t recognize. The Stepford Cuckoos were also there – Celeste, Irma and Phoebe – now all grown up. They were the answer to Logan’s question as to who was running Cerebra. The members of the black ops team were noticeably missing, making Logan wonder if they hadn’t been invited or if they were still ‘on assignment.’ Either option seemed equally likely to him. 

Scott may have organized the dinner, but thankfully he wasn’t going to make a big deal about it. There were no embarrassingly heartfelt or sentimental speeches. Not that Logan could’ve handled any more emotion. The high stakes drama and confessions in the viewing room had probably exceeded his quota for the month. But he had that feeling of warmth and welcome that Scott had probably been aiming for. With Scott on his left and Laura on his right, with Illyana’s gentle teasing and Triage’s sense of humor, Logan was again reminded of Charles’s words, _This is what living is. You still have time_. Living became easier when you weren’t alone. It was an old cliché, but that didn’t make it any less true.

After dinner, Scott waited while Logan brought Laura back to her room and for the first time, tucked her in for the night. 

“I’m glad you’re better, Daddy,” she said, as Logan brushed the hair away from her face. 

Logan was startled by how easily the word ‘Daddy’ fell from her lips. He couldn’t remember her calling him that before. 

“I’m still not at a hundred percent,” he told her. “Got a long way to go, kiddo.” 

Laura hugged her stuffed pony closer to her chest. “Scott will take care of you,” she said, seriously. 

Logan glanced behind him at the silhouette of his former lover standing in the doorway. “Yes, he will,” he agreed, before kissing her good night.

* * * * *

The walk back to the med bay was slow, but Scott didn’t complain. A few hours out of bed had practically wiped Logan out, but he wasn’t about to admit that to Scott. His body ached, but it was a pleasant ache. He felt the pleasant buzz of a good meal and good company and a few beers. In an effort to keep his concentration and not keel over, he began talking.

“So that kid,” he said. 

“Could you be more specific?” 

“Fabio? Fabio Medina? The one who goes by the codename Goldballs?” 

“What about him?” Logan could hear the amusement in Scott’s tone.

“What’s his power? I mean, why would he choose a codename like _Goldballs_?” 

At this, Scott laughed outright. “His codename is apt. It’s literal,” Scott explained. 

“Literal?” Logan repeated. 

“Yes,” Scott said. “Fabio Medina literally shoots different sized gold balls from his body.” 

“Yer kidding.” 

“I’m really not,” Scott said, unable to hold back his laughter. As far as absurd powers went…. “Y’know, Fabio once took down a Sentinel,” Scott went on, still smiling.

“Whatever works,” Logan replied with a shrug, but he was also grinning. He realized with some surprise that they’d both stopped walking and that they were nowhere near the med bay. “Where are we?” he questioned. 

Scott gestured to the door that they’d stopped in front of. “Your room,” he answered. 

“What about the med bay?” 

“I’m checking you out,” Scott replied. “Triage told me that there’s nothing more he can do for you, so we’re just waiting on Forge now.” He paused. “We can always go back, if you prefer.” 

“Funny,” Logan told him dryly. Then a thought occurred to him. “Where’s your room?” 

“At the end of the hallway.”

Logan nodded. The different Greek words for ‘love’ flitted through his mind. He’d experienced all of them with Scott – _eros, philia, ludus,_ and _pragma_ – to name a few. _Philia_ was still there, as was _ludus_ and _pragma_. But since they’d been reunited, Logan hadn’t caught a sense of _eros_ from the other man. There seemed to be no desire and it saddened him to think that the physical attraction was now only one-way. But he accepted this without complaint. They still had _philia, ludus_ and _pragma_ , and that was enough. 

“I didn’t want to presume,” Scott said suddenly before stopping just as abruptly. He seemed hesitant. Logan watched as the other man took a deep breath before speaking. 

“I didn’t want to presume,” Scott tried again. “But my room is your room,” he went on. “If you want it to be.” 

Logan thought his heart might burst from his chest, but he somehow managed to remain outwardly calm. “Just like that?” he questioned, amazed at the steadiness of his own voice. 

Scott shrugged, an uncharacteristic gesture for him. “Just like that,” he agreed. 

Logan didn’t even take a moment to think about it. He grasped Scott’s hand and led him down the hallway.


	3. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for the shortness of this chapter. RL has been incredibly busy, and I wasn't able to meet my writing quota this week. On the upside, y'all get another chapter so maybe that's a bonus. :) Anyway, I'm posting this now because it's a completed section with nice closure.

Logan remembered what it had been like in the beginning when he had first managed to get Scott into his bed. Or, more accurately, when he had first managed to get into _Scott’s_ bed. By then, Jean had been dead for two years, and they had been teammates for even longer than that. Their earlier antagonism had long since given way to an easy – albeit professional – camaraderie. But Scott kept Logan at a certain distance, which Logan had realized one day was true of nearly all of Scott’s relationships with everyone except for the original five. Try as he might, Logan couldn’t seem to break into Scott’s ‘inner circle’ and eventually he became content with their ‘professional’ relationship – the banter and the friendly sparring, both verbal and physical. Summers was a good leader and Logan was content to follow. It surprised him to wake up one morning and realize that he considered Cyclops to be one of his closest friends (together with Colossus and Nightcrawler), even though it was clear that Scott didn’t feel the same way. Logan wondered when that had happened, and then decided it didn’t really matter. It was just the way things were.

Then Jean died and everything changed. 

Scott’s grief had been overwhelming. He’d closed himself off from everything and everyone, allowing Storm to take over the day-to-day running of the school and the training of the team. Logan had also stepped up during that time – a little to everyone’s surprise – becoming more involved in the school and taking on more classes. It was his way of filling some of the void that Scott had created, although he could never truly replace Cyclops in any meaningful way. Eventually, Scott left the school and the team. Logan’s first instinct had been to go after him, but Charles had held him back. At the time, Charles had called Scott’s leave a “sabbatical,” but Logan wasn’t so sure. It didn’t look like Cyclops had any intention of coming back.

Logan gave Scott’s “sabbatical” six months and then he went in search of the man himself. This time, Charles didn’t stop him. He found Scott doing a series of odd jobs – working construction, being a short-order cook, fishing on a trawler. Each time Logan confronted him, Scott found a way to give him the slip, which only infuriated Logan more. The last time Logan caught up with Scott, it was in a dingy room above a garage where Scott was working as a mechanic. Logan didn’t even think about it when he pushed Scott against the wall and kissed him fiercely. The shock of his actions meant that the kiss ended almost as abruptly as it had begun, as Logan stepped back, prepared to be decked across the jaw or worse – blasted out the doorway. He witnessed the expression of utter surprise on the other man’s face, and watched as it transformed into sternness and determination. Logan steeled himself for the expected fight – that was one way to break Summers out of his torpor – but it never came. Instead, he was grabbed by the front of his motorcycle jacket and then Summers was kissing _him_. Logan switched his mind off and let his instincts guide him. Now definitely wasn’t the time to think.

That kiss led to the uncoordinated shedding of clothes, followed by a tumble into (an immaculately made) bed. Then all Logan could focus on was the tangle of limbs, the feel of smooth muscle, the hard curves and planes of a male body, and the scent that he had missed terribly, even if that scent had turned bitter and a little sour with grief. In some twisted way, Logan probably thought he could fuck the grief out of Scott and Scott seemed to be of the same mind. He urged, almost goaded Logan on, as though he wanted Logan to hurt him, as if pain would numb his grief. But Logan wouldn’t oblige. Violence wasn’t the answer, not this time. And when Scott came, still trembling from his release, Logan held the other man as he finally broke down.

Logan cleaned them up after that first time. Scott had been too tired – mentally, physically and emotionally – to do any of that himself. As Logan had spooned behind an exhausted Scott Summers, drawing the other man against him, he’d realized, with little fanfare or surprise, that this was something he’d wanted for a very long time but had never been able to admit it to himself. There had been no point. Scott had always been unattainable, forever out of his reach, and deserving of someone better than himself (someone like Jean). Now things were different, but Scott still deserved someone better. _Maybe_ , Logan had thought, _maybe he could fill that void until someone better came along_. 

Except…no one else came along.

Logan didn’t know what to expect the following morning, but he’d anticipated every possible negative reaction (because their interlude could only end badly): anger, regret, blame, disgust, distance, and aloofness. But Scott was none of those things. He merely got out of bed (Logan silently appreciated the view), went to the bathroom to shower, changed into fresh clothes and then headed downstairs, presumably to go to work. But ten minutes later, Scott was back and Logan hadn’t budged an inch from the bed. 

“We’re leaving,” Scott stated matter-of-factly. (Logan was relieved to hear that Summers even _sounded_ more like himself.) 

“Where to?” Logan asked casually, as he watched Scott begin to pack his things into a black duffel back. 

“The nearest motel,” Scott answered. “I just quit my job and since the room came with it…” he trailed off, giving Logan a pointed look.

Logan took the hint and dragged himself out of bed. 

The nearest motel was a ten-minute walk away on the outskirts of the dinky little town that Scott was hiding in. It wasn’t anything fancy, but at least it was clean and well maintained. Logan wasn’t sure what they were going to do there (have a heart-to-heart?), but Scott answered that question quickly enough by pushing Logan onto their new queen-sized bed, stripping him and then proceeding to fuck him. They didn’t leave that room for a week, unless it was to pick up food and supplies. 

On the eighth day, still hazy from the afterglow of post-coital bliss, Logan ran his hand down the scars on Scott’s back, the three perfect claw marks that Logan himself had made when he had been possessed by some demon or spirit. 

“Not that I’m complaining or anything,” he said, conversationally. “But how long are we gonna keep this up?” 

“And here I thought the Wolverine was known for his stamina,” Scott replied, a teasing lilt in his voice. 

“Is that a challenge, Summers?” Logan asked, in spite of himself. 

Scott laughed. “You’re too easy,” he said, reaching behind him to run his hand down Logan’s leg. 

Logan found he had nothing to say to that because it was perfectly true. He _was_ easy, but only when it came to Cyclops. He could feel Scott’s mood shift and the hand on his leg stilled.

“Do you want to go back?” Scott asked. 

“Don’t ya think we should?” Logan questioned. There was a long silence before he pressed the issue. “The school needs you, Scott. The team. The students. It’s not the same there without ya.” _And you’ve been gone too long_ , he wanted to say. _You’ve been gone since Jean died._

Scott’s reply was soft, but firm. “I know,” he said. “And we will go back.” He turned over so that he was lying on his back and could get a good look at Logan. “When we do,” he said. “Do you want to keep doing this?” 

Logan wasn’t one to turn down sex, but he was startled by the question and it must’ve shown on his face. He felt Scott’s gaze sharpen, as sure as if he had been hit by one of Cyclops’s fine force beams.

“Wasn’t thinking that far ahead,” he admitted. “Not really sure what’s going on here. Thought maybe you were just…working through stuff.” 

Scott’s lips quirked upward. “Because I seem like a casual sex kind of guy?” he said, the teasing lilt back in his voice. 

Logan couldn’t reciprocate Scott’s good humor. The conversation had suddenly become uncomfortable for him. As if sensing that he might pull away, Scott reached out and grasped his arm. 

“I may be…working through stuff,” Scott said slowly, repeating Logan’s words. “But this isn’t just casual sex.” 

“Fair enough,” Logan conceded. “Not sure where that leaves us either. We’re not…you know.” 

Apparently, Scott didn’t. “Not what?” he said, perplexed. 

“Not…compatible.” 

Scott opened his mouth to reply, but shut it just as quickly. He looked contemplative. “So,” he said after a moment. “You don’t even want to try?”

“It’s not that,” Logan found himself protesting. “It’s just…it seems…you even in the right headspace for this? And me? I fucking suck at relationships. _I_ wouldn’t get into a relationship with me.” 

“Jean did say you were emotionally constipated,” Scott said. 

“She was right,” Logan agreed, perhaps a tad too vehemently. He realized that it was probably a big deal that they could talk about Jean so effortlessly, without any rancor or regret or any trace of their former rivalry, such as it had been. 

Scott eased his grip on Logan’s arm, but he kept it there, shifting again so that they were lying on their sides facing each other.

“You’re not just a rebound, Logan,” he said seriously. “And we’re not as incompatible as you may think. As for sucking at relationships…” Here Scott shrugged, but he was grinning. “I’m willing to try if you are. The thing is,” he said, sweeping his hand up Logan’s arm and across Logan’s shoulder until it came to rest on top of Logan’s heart. “I think you knew long before I did that this is where we were headed all along.” 

Logan reached down and grasped Scott’s hand, knowing the other man could feel how hard his heart was thudding in his chest. When he wanted to, Summers cut straight to the point and this was one of those times. 

“Maybe,” Logan conceded, his voice soft. “But I wasn’t ever gonna do anything about it. After Jean…” he shook his head. “It didn’t seem right.” He took a deep breath, willing his heart to slow its galloping. “I’ll always have your back, Cyke,” he said. “Whatever happens between us.”

Now Logan was tracing the same three scars on Scott’s back as the other man dozed on his side. He felt incredibly old and worn down next to Cyclops. Scott had aged gracefully, not that Logan had ever expected anything less. Logan knew that the other man was in his late forties, but he easily could’ve passed for younger than that. 

“How’s your leg?” Scott asked him, voice sleepy and sated from sex. (And did Logan ever imagine that he’d hear Summers’ just-fucked voice again?) 

“Hurts,” he answered truthfully since there was no point in lying. 

Scott’s chuckle was low but compassionate. He reached behind him in a gesture that Logan remembered so well so that he could caress Logan’s side. 

“We can work around that,” Scott said. 

“Already thinking about next time?” Logan teased him. 

“As if you’re not,” Scott retorted.

Logan was most definitely thinking about next time and how he would get Summers to do the work. Scott could top. Or ride him. Or they could find another position that didn’t put so much pressure on his knee. Suddenly, the idea of flushing the adamantium poisoning out of his system held a lot more appeal if it meant improving his sex life with Cyclops. Speaking of which…

“Forge have a timetable for me?” 

Logan found it a little odd that he’d been in Eden for two weeks and hadn’t seen Forge yet. He hadn’t been at the dinner that night. Where was the genius inventor hiding? 

“A rough timetable,” Scott answered. “I expect he’ll be ready within the week.”

Logan could feel the alertness flow back into the other man. He wondered what Scott hadn’t told him yet, because he felt that there were things Scott was…not necessarily _hiding_ from him, more like waiting for the right moment. Cyclops had always made sure that the timing was right. That was the strategist in him.

“You seen the device he’s been working on?” 

“Yes.” 

When no further elaboration followed, Logan took that to be a bad sign. 

“I’m not going to like it, am I?” 

“No.” Scott sighed. “Let’s deal with that when we get there, okay?” 

“Yeah, okay,” Logan agreed. He slung an arm about the other man’s waist and leaned in, breathing in the other man’s scent. _It was good to be enveloped by that scent again_ , Logan thought. The scent of Scott Summers permeated through the bed sheets and the pillows, the very air in the room. It meant that he was home.


	4. What the Future Holds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the fic that won't end. I shouldn't say it, but...*cringe* one more chapter.

The problem (if it could be called that) Logan discovered about no longer being confined to the med bay was boredom. He didn’t actually have anything _to do_. Since he was still ‘recovering,’ Scott hadn’t given him any responsibilities. It meant that he had a lot of time to kill while Cyclops did whatever the leader of Eden did during the day.

Logan would’ve liked to explore Eden more on his own, but his gimpy right leg began acting up the following morning. It was a clear sign to tone down the vigorous sex until he was back to one hundred percent (or something closer to one hundred percent), but Logan didn’t regret the previous night’s activities. Trying to think of something to do, his first instinct was to check on Laura, but then he decided it would be better not to disturb her studies. He could check on her _after_ her lessons were finished. Unfortunately, staying in one place didn’t appeal to him either, especially after being confined in the med bay for almost two weeks. But with his gimpy leg, he didn’t think he’d get too far around Eden either. The solution turned out to be surprisingly simple. Logan wound up in the training areas, which – big surprise – were easily accessible from the residential quarters via an elevator. (Logan wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Cyclops still trained at 6:30am.) 

There was no Danger Room in Eden. Instead, the facilities were very similar to the ones Beast had designed when the X-Men had moved to Graymalkin. The training rooms still featured advanced simulations that were controlled from a central hub. When Logan entered the main control room later that morning, he found Illyana there, presiding over one of the combat simulations. She gave him a warm smile and motioned that he should join her.

Logan stood beside her and watched the scenario unfolding in the room below. It was Triage and his team fighting what looked like a Skrull invasion. (Later, Logan would learn that Eva Bell was their team leader. She was actually older than her peers, thanks to being lost in the time stream and aging prematurely. It was a tale that Magik could relate to.) Logan remembered vividly how the X-Men had saved San Francisco from such an invasion so many years ago. It had been one of the few times in their long turbulent history that the X-Men had been openly celebrated on the streets of a major city. He remembered Mayor Sadie Sinclair fondly. She had been kind and welcoming to them at a time when the X-Men had been ravaged and homeless. That was before it had all fallen apart.

“I remember a time when those sims would feature the Brotherhood,” Logan commented. “Getting my claws into Sabretooth used to be cathartic.” 

“And I bet getting your claws into him _now_ would still be cathartic,” Illyana replied. Logan could hear the smile in her voice.

“Somehow, I don’t think Cyclops would approve,” Logan said dryly. “That, and Victor would rip me to shreds,” he added. Logan knew that he was no match for Victor in his current state. _Another reason to get the poison out of my system_ , he thought. Not that he planned on picking a fight with Sabretooth any time soon. 

“We still have sims featuring the Brotherhood,” Illyana told him. “As well as sims of ourselves. Cloning is more prevalent than ever, and as your run-in with Rice and his cohorts shows, experimentation is still going on even if our species is dying out. Exploited to the very end.” 

Logan glanced at her briefly, but Illyana’s attention was focused on the training session below. He’d detected the shift in her tone, the undercurrent of anger and bitterness in her voice. Magik hadn’t been the same since she’d returned from her ordeal against Belasco. Her brother, Piotr, had never been able to fully come to grips with the change, no matter how much he’d loved his sister. His little ‘Snowflake” grew colder over the years, becoming the embodiment of his nickname for her. Now that Logan thought about it, it made sense that Illyana had chosen to follow Cyclops. They shared the same beliefs and she had hardened even more with time. He imagined that she was a fierce warrior now and probably Cyclops’s most loyal follower. He thought back to the ease the two of them had demonstrated back in the med bay and his traitorous thoughts began wondering if that simple gesture had been all that harmless.

“You and Scott,” he said aloud, before his brain could catch up to his mouth. 

“What about us?” This time it was Illyana’s turn to glance at him. He could read the playful challenge in her eyes. 

“You’re very close,” Logan stated, as neutrally as he possibly could. 

“We are,” she agreed, her voice just as neutral and detached.

The Russian gave nothing away in her scent, her voice and her body language. Logan admired that. Illyana had learned _a lot_ from Scott over the years. But then, she also seemed to take pity on him, implicitly understanding what Logan was fishing for. 

“I’m not your competition, Wolverine,” she stated in that same flat, neutral tone. 

“But you used to be,” Logan pressed, before he could stop himself.

Illyana shrugged, a gesture so calculated that it reminded Logan of Scott again. “We didn’t work well that way,” she said at last. She gave Logan a look that told him that was _all_ he was going to get out of her on that subject. As she returned her attention to the training room below, she said, “You don’t have any competition, Logan. The day I ‘ported us back to your gravesite? I’d never seen Scott so desperate. He moved heaven and earth to bring you back, and you’d do the same for him. Trust me when I say, you don’t have any competition.” 

Logan nodded, fighting the suspicious lump that had formed in his throat. He focused on the team dealing with the last of the Skrull invaders. “Christ,” he said, after a while. “That kid really does shoot gold balls from his body.”

Illyana laughed at that. “You should’ve seen them in the beginning,” she said, dropping her voice a little conspiratorially. “Just terrible. Tripping over those damn balls and trying not to get knocked out by them. Fabio Medina was a menace and he wasn’t the most stalwart of personalities. If he panicked, those gold balls would start flying.” 

“They’ve come a long way since then,” Logan observed, as Tempus trapped the remaining Skrull in a time bubble while Hijack disabled the last of the alien weaponry. 

“They have,” Illyana agreed. 

Tempus looked up to the control booth and signaled to Illyana. Illyana returned the gesture, powering down the simulation.

Logan watched as the team filed out of the training room, laughing and joking. It had been a good session. “Y’know,” he said. “All that’s missing from them black uniforms is an X.” 

Illyana’s smile was surprisingly enigmatic. “Maybe not for long,” she replied. 

Logan was about to ask Illyana what she meant by that except the door to the control room opened and Christopher stepped inside. Logan had expected Triage to head to the showers with the rest of his team. 

“Hey,” Christopher said, greeting both of them. “Thought I saw you up here,” he added, addressing Logan. “Wanted to know if you needed a check-up.” 

“Part of Cyclops’s orders?” Logan asked good-naturedly.

Christopher’s smile was wry. “You’re my responsibility,” he informed Logan. “Until Cyclops tells me otherwise. Besides,” he added. “Scott would have my hide if I let anything happen to you.” Christopher eyed Logan’s right leg critically, probably noticing how little weight Logan was putting on it. “So, how’s that leg?” 

“Sore,” Logan answered. “It’s been acting up all morning.” 

“You’ve probably put too much pressure on it,” Christopher said. “Here, sit down.” He motioned to the black sofa at the back of the room.

Logan followed the suggestion as Christopher squatted beside him and inspected his leg. Triage placed his right hand on top of Logan’s sore knee and Logan felt the heat of Triage’s power working. 

“Yup,” Christopher confirmed. “There’s a lot of swelling there.” He glanced at Logan. “You and Cyclops were busy last night, huh?” he needled. 

“Just the knee, Triage,” Logan replied. “Just the knee.”

* * * * *

Triage invited Logan to lunch with the rest of his teammates, and Logan found that he couldn’t refuse. He’d grown fond of Christopher and the kid was good-hearted. Christopher and his team had a good dynamic. Logan was content to listen to their stories and shenanigans. It was also a good way to indirectly learn about the history of Eden through the eyes of people who had spent a good portion of their lives there. It gave him a better sense of what Scott had built and it was evident that Triage and his friends were loyal to Cyclops. But, try as he might, Logan couldn’t stay out of the conversation forever. That much became obvious when Eva asked him for pointers about their training session.

Logan eyed the young team leader before sharing his advice. “The Skrull are a telepathic species,” he said. “Since you don’t have a telepath on your team, eliminating their hive mind first would’ve been more efficient.” 

“Yes, I thought so too,” Eva murmured. “How could we have gotten closer to the hive?” 

And so, Logan began running them through the sim again, at least from the part that he had seen. 

“You should design some sims,” David suggested afterwards. 

“Nah,” Logan replied. “I always left that to the boss-man. Scott’s sims are crazy enough.” 

“Then you should teach a combat training class,” Eva suggested. 

“Do I look like I’m in any condition to teach a combat training class?” 

“I meant,” Eva amended. “When you’re _better_.”

“Maybe,” Logan said, a little evasively. “Do you still _have_ combat training classes here?” he asked after a moment. 

“Do you think Cyclops would ever _stop_ having combat training classes?” Hijack threw back at him. 

“Fair enough,” Logan agreed. 

“Hey, I would take a combat training class taught by the Wolverine,” Eva said seriously. 

“Same here,” Fabio chimed in. 

“You need it, bub,” Logan told him, a little teasingly. 

Fabio flushed. 

“So tell me, Goldballs,” Logan said good-naturedly, to take away the sting of his jab. “How’d you take down a Sentinel?” 

Fabio’s embarrassment morphed into a look of pride and Logan was amazed at how _young_ the kid still seemed. 

Fabio leaned forward. “So, it was like this…” he began, barely able to contain his excitement.

* * * * *

One thing was still true on his first day out of the med bay, Logan found himself heading for the viewing deck on his own. It wasn’t that he and Scott had agreed to meet there at the end of the day. Like many things between them, it was _understood_. What Logan hadn’t expected to find upon his arrival at the viewing deck, was another occupant. The familiar silhouette stopped Logan in his tracks.

For some reason, Logan flashed back to the moment that he and Scott had returned to Westchester after spending a week together in an isolated motel in the boondocks of America. Charles had been waiting for them at the entrance to the school, as if he had been expecting them. (He probably had. Charles could’ve tracked Scott through Cerebro any time he’d wanted to, but he’d chosen to give his prized pupil and surrogate son some space.) 

Without any fanfare, Charles had simply said, “Welcome home.” 

“Thank you, Professor,” Scott had replied, squeezing the other man’s shoulder as he’d walked past him and into the school. 

Logan, on the other hand, had stopped in front of the Professor’s wheelchair and had given the other man an appraising look.

“Did you know?” he’d finally asked, except it had come out more like a demand. 

“Know what?” 

“Playing dumb doesn’t suit you, Charles.”

The Professor had smiled that knowing smile that had both comforted and infuriated Logan. “I didn’t know,” he’d said, answering Logan’s vague question. “But I suspected.” He’d turned his wheelchair around and Logan had automatically fallen into step beside him as they’d entered the school. “Though many would likely disagree,” Charles had gone on. “You’re good for each other. You’re well-balanced.” He’d paused suddenly, both his speech and his motion, to look at Logan. Logan had stopped just as abruptly, and had returned the other man’s gaze a little warily. 

“You love him in a different way than Jean did, but no less,” Charles had stated.

Logan had felt his fight or flight instinct ratchet up a gear. He’d been shocked that Charles was being so direct. 

“I believe that in time Scott will return the depth of your feelings,” Charles had continued, as if they’d been talking about the weather. “Scott’s a very committed man. It’s one of the reasons that I chose him to lead. Thank you for bringing him back, Logan. And for looking after him.” 

That was the only time that Charles had ever spoken to Logan about Logan’s romantic relationship with Scott. The Professor had known all along how Logan’s feelings for Scott had evolved over time. As much as Charles had respected mental privacy, there was really nothing you could keep from him when you were living under his roof.

Logan was reminded of Charles acutely as he stared at the familiar figure standing in the middle of the viewing deck. There was no mistaking the straight-backed silhouette and the flowing purple cape, not to mention the helmet that Logan had always thought to be overly dramatic but served a very specific purpose. 

Magneto. 

Logan could’ve turned around. Erik hadn’t seen him yet. He might not have even realized that Logan was in the room since the other man appeared to be deep within his own thoughts. Logan almost turned around, but for some reason he felt compelled to talk to his former adversary. It felt like he’d spent most of his life (the parts he could remember anyway) fighting Magneto and the Brotherhood. In the back of his mind, the image of Charles Xavier came into focus. There was unfinished business here too. 

“Done with your special assignment?” Logan said loudly to alert Magneto to his presence as he strode inside the room.

The Master of Magnetism didn’t flinch, didn’t so much as move a limb to acknowledge that he’d been addressed or that he recognized the voice. But when Logan came to stand beside the other man, Erik gave him a patented condescending glance as though he were a king deigning to look upon an insect…or a wild animal. Some things just didn’t change.

“Ah, Wolverine,” Magneto said casually. “I had heard that you’d finally joined us.” 

“Finally?” Logan repeated. “You were expecting me?” 

“Not _you_ , per se,” Magneto replied with a slight inclination of his head. “But our other mutant brothers and sisters. You merely arrived ahead of schedule.”

Logan quietly assessed the other man. He knew that Erik was over ninety, but he looked extremely fit for his age. Older, certainly. But there was a glint in the other man’s eye that told Logan that Erik’s mind was still sharp. It had to be, if Cyclops was still sending him out on special missions. (Scott _trusted_ Magneto enough to send him on a special mission.) The years had been kind to Erik. He hadn’t been ravaged by physical ailments or diseases that usually afflicted the elderly from what Logan could see. He possessed the scent of old age, but not death. No, death seemed to be very far off for Magneto. The only noticeable difference about Erik was the elegant black cane with a silver handle that he held in his right hand, a walking aid that he now shared in common with Logan.

“I see you haven’t lost your flair for the mysterious,” Logan said. “Or the dramatic,” he added, gesturing at Magneto’s costume. 

“I see that the years have finally taken their toll on you, Wolverine.” 

Logan nodded, leaning a little bit more on his cane. “Still,” he said. “It’s better than being dead.” 

At that, Magneto chuckled.

Surprisingly, they fell into a companionable silence. Erik looked back out over the horizon, while Logan contemplated whether or not he should say something about Charles. It felt like his responsibility, like he owed both Charles and Erik somehow. The two men hadn’t been public about their past relationship but even a blind person could see how much they’d meant to each other. They’d just had different ideals and eventually had followed different paths. The problem was Logan was terrible at expressing himself in words. That’s why he’d always left the heavy lifting to Scott. Speaking of their leader, Logan smelled the fresh scent of Scott Summers join them.

“Catching up?” Cyclops said. 

Scott was outwardly calm (Scott was _always_ outwardly calm), but Logan could feel him assessing the situation, calculating whether or not he would have to intervene to keep the peace. 

“We’re good,” Logan said to assure him. 

“We’re better than good,” Erik agreed, but Logan got the impression that the other man was referring to something else.

Magneto turned to face Cyclops. “They eventually saw reason,” Erik said, continuing a conversation that left Logan in the dark. 

“And by that do you mean you had to persuade them?” Scott translated. 

“A little persuasion never hurt anybody,” Erik replied off-handedly, but then his expression hardened. “I told them that it would be a very bad idea to renegotiate the terms of our original settlement.” 

“And?” 

“And they agreed.” 

“Good.” 

“Indeed. Sabretooth and Monet will bring in the last shipment. They’ll arrive in a few days. Now, if you’ll excuse me, a warm bath would be most welcome.” 

“Thank you, Erik.” 

“Of course,” Magneto said magnanimously. “And how many times do I have to tell you? It’s Max, now.” 

“Max,” Scott repeated, as though the name were foreign to him. “That name will take some getting used to.” 

“Wolverine,” Magneto said, taking Logan by surprise. “I suppose I’ll be seeing you around.” 

“Sure thing, bub,” Logan replied at his most eloquent. “Max?” he questioned when he and Scott were alone again. 

“Max Eisenhardt,” Scott explained. “It’s Magneto’s real name, what his parents called him before the Second World War broke out and the Nazis took everything away from them.” 

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Swapping childhood stories with the Master of Magnetism?” he said. “I guess you really are best buds.”

“Magneto and I have a…complicated…relationship,” Scott eventually said. “He’s been a different sort of teacher compared to Charles, but I like to think that I’ve also influenced him in my own way.” 

“I’ll say,” Logan agreed. “Never thought I’d see Magneto take orders from anyone.” 

“For the most part, Erik and I want the same things,” Scott said in a manner that Logan found slightly unnerving. The idea of Cyclops and Magneto aligned still didn’t sit well with him.

“He’s a good team player so long as you have the same goals.” 

“And what would those be?” 

Scott gestured to the wide sofa behind them. Logan sat down, his knee thankful for the reprieve, and Scott sat beside him.

“When I was young,” Scott began. “When I first arrived at Charles’s school, the Professor found me one night in one of the barley fields. It wasn’t hard to find me since I was shooting off my optic beam into the sky. When my power first manifested, it used to give me bad headaches. I’d shoot off a couple of beams to relieve the pressure. The Professor taught me an important lesson that night, probably the most important one I’ve learned. I know that for years and years afterwards, I remembered what he said. I believed it, and I followed it.” 

“What was the lesson?” Logan asked, unable to stop himself from reaching out and grasping Scott’s hand. It was gratifying to feel Scott return his grip firmly.

“It was a lesson about strength and control.” Scott paused. Logan could see the other man gathering his thoughts. “Charles told me that one day I would come across someone who was weaker than me, and that this person would try and push me down. He said that weak people always fear strength, and that they would fear me because I was stronger than them.” Here, Scott paused again and even through the ruby quartz glasses, Logan could feel the other man’s piercing gaze. 

“Do you know what Charles said I would do when that day came?” 

“Not punch the guy’s lights out, I imagine.”

Scott smiled at Logan’s attempt at levity. “No,” he confirmed, but then his expression grew somber. “Charles said that I would do nothing, because real strength comes from keeping my glasses on until it was the right time to take them off. A powerful man doesn’t need strength, he told me. He needs _control_.”

Logan felt his chest constrict at those words. Control was a mantra that Scott had followed since he’d been a young boy. Logan knew that it had stemmed from Scott’s need to control his destructive power, but it had never occurred to Logan that the idea of control – of exerting that level of control – might have originated from Charles. Of course, it made sense now. Charles had trained Scott from the beginning. He would’ve ingrained those values and beliefs in his young pupil. _But perhaps_ , Logan thought, _even the great Charles Xavier hadn’t anticipated some of the effects_. In some ways and maybe unintentionally, Charles had fucked Scott up, too.

“One day, I got tired of always being pushed down and I decided it was time to take my glasses off,” Scott finished. 

That was the day Scott had left Westchester for good. 

“That’s what Magneto and I have in common.”

Logan didn’t know what to say to that. There was _nothing_ to say to that. Hell, he understood where Scott was coming from. Logan wasn’t one to take anything sitting down either. He _always_ pushed back. It was the natural instinct to fight and to kill that he’d struggled against for most of life. Weapon X had unleashed the beast within him, had turned him into an efficient killing machine, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t always been that way deep down inside. Scott’s levels of lunatic calm and control were a characteristic that Logan admired in the other man. In the beginning, that admiration had manifested as a form of derision, as a taunting and goading to get Summers to lose control. He wanted to show that Scott wasn’t so very different from himself, that the façade of the perfect Boy Scout had been just that – a façade. Decades later and Logan realized that they were more similar than he’d ever thought. Was this what the Professor had meant when he’d said that they “balanced” each other?

Since Logan didn’t know what to say, he settled for running his thumb across Scott’s knuckles in a comforting gesture. He was rewarded with a sideways look and a half smile. 

“Sorry to interrupt.” 

Logan nearly gave himself whiplash with how quickly he turned his head. 

“Alex?!”

Logan took in the sight and the scent of Alex Summers walking towards them wearing the same black uniform as Tempus and her teammates. Havok wasn’t alone either. Logan recognized the second scent, still vibrant and kaleidoscopic as it had been from all those years ago. Dazzler. 

It was Ali who spoke first. “Logan,” she said, arms already outstretched. 

Logan got to his feet just in time to be crushed by her hug. “Ali, let’s go easy on the leg,” he said, patting her a little awkwardly with his free hand. His other hand still held his cane. 

When they broke apart, Ali was grinning at him. “I like this new look,” she said, running her fingers through his beard affectionately. “It’s a more…distinguished Wolverine.” 

“If that’s yer way of saying that I look old –” Logan began, but he was smiling too.

“It sure beats the grizzly man look you were sporting when Scott brought you back to the mansion that one time,” Alex said, joining their little group. 

“Alex,” Logan said, relieved to see the other man and crushing him in another bear-like hug. Why hadn’t Scott told him that his younger brother was here? And why was he only seeing Alex _now_?

“As you can see,” Alex said, when they broke apart. “Scott’s the good-looking Summers brother now.” 

Logan had lost track of Alex after the Unity Squad fiasco. That had ended badly. It made sense that Havok would find his way back to his brother. He couldn't imagine the Summers' brothers apart for long anyhow. He’d heard of the bomb blast that had disfigured half of Alex’s face. Now he could see the evidence for himself. 

“You’re still gorgeous to me, babe,” Ali said, slinging her arm about Alex’s shoulders and kissing him on the scarred half of his face. 

Logan quickly read the dynamic between them. Havok and Dazzler. That was certainly new. Logan tried to remember the last bit of news he’d heard of Alison Blaire. He knew that she’d been recruited by Maria Hill to become an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. Something must’ve happened there for Ali to go from hunting down Cyclops to joining his group.

“Sorry, we couldn’t see you sooner,” Alex went on, his arm around Ali’s waist. “We’ve been…out of town…on a long-term assignment.” 

“Very out of town,” Ali added. 

“And how did that go?” Scott asked. He’d quietly stood up and joined them. 

“Better than what you were hoping for,” Alex told him. “I told Brand that you’d pick up the package yourself.” 

“When will it be ready?” 

“In a day or two,” Alex replied. “Brand will contact you.”

“And now that business is concluded,” Ali said, jabbing Logan in the chest. “You’re having dinner with us tonight. Both of you,” she added. “Would I be amiss in suggesting that it would be a double date?” 

“You were always direct, Dazzler,” Logan remarked. 

Ali shrugged, still smiling. “It’s something showbiz taught me,” she said. “You just had to take aim at what you wanted. Dinner,” she repeated. “I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer.” 

“So long as you’re not cooking,” Scott told her. 

“Haha. Very funny, Cyclops.” 

“I’m not joking, Dazzler.” 

Alex waved his free hand. “ _I’ll_ cook,” he said, intervening between his girlfriend and his brother. “You can always help,” he added, looking at Scott.

“Next time,” Scott suggested. “Logan and I have other plans, but we’ll see you later. And you better make that dinner for five,” he added. “Laura will be joining us.” 

“And who’s Laura?” Ali asked, her interest piqued. 

“My daughter,” Logan answered. 

The matching looks of shock on Havok and Dazzler’s faces were worthy of a Kodak moment. 

“You’re just full of surprises,” Alex said told him. 

“Bring her along,” Ali said warmly. “We’d love to meet her. See you all later!” she added, before dragging her boyfriend away. 

“When did that happen?” Logan asked, watching the two former X-Men as they left the viewing deck. 

“A while back,” Scott said, sitting back down. “It’s amazing how mutual betrayal by an international agency can bring people together.”

“I’m assuming yer talking about S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Logan translated, settling beside the other man and resting his arm behind Scott’s shoulders. Scott comfortably leaned into his side. This time, Scott was the one who reached for Logan’s free hand. 

“Yes,” he confirmed. 

“And that package Alex was talking about?” 

Scott sighed and Logan could hear the fatigue in the sound. “I will tell you everything, Logan,” he said. “I promise.” 

“Just not yet,” Logan finished for him. 

“My priority is making you better,” Scott admitted. “And after that…” he trailed off. “You can decide what you want to do.” 

“You make it sound like I’d leave this place,” Logan commented, the idea sounding preposterous to him. 

“There’s a lot going on in Eden,” Scott said slowly. “Some of which you may not approve of.”

“Whatever is goin’ on here, it ain’t gonna be enough to drive me away,” Logan said seriously. “As far as I can tell, Eden may be the last mutant sanctuary in North America, possibly the world. Laura’s happy here. She’s safe and protected. You’re here. Even if I had someplace else to go – which I _don’t_ – why would I leave all that behind?” _Why would I leave you behind_ , is what Logan didn’t say.

Scott’s grin was disturbingly playful. “I’d forgotten,” he said. 

“What?” Logan asked warily. 

Scott’s grin grew wider. “How romantic you are.” 

“Cyke.”

Logan’s voice was low and filled with warning, but both of them knew that there was no real threat behind it. 

“It’s true,” Scott pushed. “You were always better with the big, unexpected romantic gestures.” 

It was Logan’s turn to sigh, exasperated at being boxed into a corner by his lover. “Ya got any more surprises for me today?” he asked, going on the offensive. 

Scott wouldn’t take the bait. “No,” he replied. “I thought we could go see Forge, but that can wait until tomorrow. I have a better idea.”

* * * * *

“Damn, Summers,” Logan said, easing into the warm, bubbling water. “This is the best idea you’ve had yet,” he agreed.

Scott eased into the water behind him, and Logan made room for the other man. When he leaned back, he made sure not to put all of his weight on Cyclops. His adamantium frame was heavy. 

“I thought you would appreciate this,” Scott said. “The water’s good for your knee.” 

“You sure know how to pick’em,” Logan murmured, his eyes drifting shut. “Heated underground water springs in Eden. Is that how this place got its name?” 

“One of the reasons,” Scott confirmed.

Logan could feel Scott tracing one of the scars on his abdomen, a nasty knife wound that he’d picked up after the adamantium poisoning. He idly wondered if the scars he’d gained since Westchester were permanent. He suspected that they were. Logan had been depowered before and when his healing factor had returned, any souvenirs from fights he’d been in while his healing factor had been switched off, remained. Although his healing factor wasn’t completely turned off now, the similarities between the two situations were high. Logan didn’t mind the scars, and he didn’t think that Scott minded them either.

“Are you just going to sleep before dinner?” Scott suddenly asked. 

“Was there something else you wanted to do?” Logan asked in return, eyes still shut. 

Scott’s hand drifted lower into the coarse hair of Logan’s groin until it gripped what it was looking for. 

_Oh._

“Not interested?” Scott asked off-handedly.

“Depends,” Logan said, matching Scott’s level of disinterest. “What’re you offering?” 

“Soothing water, no pressure on your knee, me doing all the work.” 

“Is that all?” 

“Take it or leave it.” 

Logan broke from their banter with a small laugh. “You are still a godammed cock-tease, Summers,” he said. 

“A cock tease is just that,” Scott countered, in the same disinterested tone. “A tease. I, on the other hand, always follow through.”

Logan felt Scott shift behind him and he opened his eyes, wondering what the other man was up to. 

“Here,” Scott said, moving in front of Logan. Logan spread his legs to accommodate his partner. 

“Lay back,” Scott ordered. “Let me take care of you.” 

And Logan did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a few comics references in this chapter, but the big one is Scott's story about strength and control which is taken almost verbatim from _Prelude to Schism_ by Paul Jenkins.


	5. Strength in Our Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned. There's pseudo-science up ahead, but then again, the X-Men comics aren't known for being scientifically sound. :)

Logan stood in front of the mirror in Scott’s bathroom, a white towel wrapped about his waist and a small pair of trimming scissors in his hand. Outside, he heard the sound of the coffee maker finishing its brewing and then the rich smell of fresh Arabica beans wafted through the open bathroom door. A few moments later, Summers appeared, leaning against the doorway sipping coffee from a red mug. 

“Are you really going to keep that beard?” he asked. 

“Not a fan of a more ‘distinguished’ Wolverine?” Logan teased in return, echoing Dazzler’s words from the day before. 

“The look suits you,” Scott agreed with a half smile. “It’s the stubble burn I’m not a fan of.”

 _Ah, well._ Logan thought. There _was_ that. He’d rubbed Scott’s thighs red last night from the scratching of his beard. And there was something filthy about getting the other man’s cum on his beard, when he hadn’t been able to catch all of it in his mouth and some of it had dribbled down his chin. Geezus, he was getting horny just _thinking_ about giving Cyclops a blowjob.

Logan took his mind out of the gutter and focused on trimming his ‘distinguished’ beard. He’d keep the beard at this length for now. At first, he’d kept it out of sheer laziness (shaving was a hassle), but he’d grown fond of it. He’d soon learned that the beard was high maintenance in its own way. Working as a limo driver meant that his high-end clients had expected him to look presentable, and that included the beard. He couldn’t sport the grizzly man look that he’d worn while roaming the wilds. 

When he was done trimming his beard, he went out to the main room where Scott was sitting at his desk, a mug of coffee beside him while he typed away on his MacBook. Logan stole a glance at the screen as he walked past (Scott was replying to email) and headed for the coffee maker. A second mug was beside it. As Logan poured himself some coffee, he couldn’t help but notice how Scott’s room was very much like a spacious hotel room. It was clean and orderly (which was to be expected) but very impersonal. There were no pictures on the walls or on top of the cabinets. It wasn’t anything like Alex and Ali’s place last night. 

“I’m surprised,” Logan said aloud. “That you don’t have a bigger place, something like what Alex and Ali have.” Havok and Dazzler lived in an actual apartment, which made entertaining guests much easier.

Scott paused in his typing to look at Logan, who was now seated at the table that Scott sometimes used for meals. “Never really needed a bigger space,” he answered. “Not when it was just me.” He paused. “There are spare apartments here. We can get one if you want and move in with Laura.” 

Logan was thankful that he hadn’t been drinking his coffee at that moment or he might’ve choked. Move into an apartment with Laura. He _loved_ the idea. It spoke of commitment, of the future, of living as a _family_.

Scott turned back to his email. “It’s something to think about,” he said. 

“Let’s do it,” Logan replied, without hesitation. Even with Scott’s back to him, he could feel the other man smile. 

“You’re every bit as impulsive as I remember,” Scott told him, typing away. 

“We’re long overdue,” Logan said in return. 

Scott nodded, hit return and then shut down the program he’d been using. He stood up and joined Logan at the table. “That’s one way of putting it,” he agreed, sitting down opposite the other man. 

Logan gestured to the now blank screen of Scott’s laptop. “Was that the message you were waiting for?” he asked. 

“From Agent Brand?” Scott clarified. He nodded. “Yes.” He eyed Logan thoughtfully. “How do you feel about a trip to S.W.O.R.D.?” 

Logan grimaced. “Ya know I hate flying, Slim,” he said. 

Scott smiled into his coffee. Logan hadn’t actually said ‘no.’

* * * * *

A trip to S.W.O.R.D.’s orbital station would have to wait, however, since there was still the matter of flushing the adamantium poisoning out of Logan’s system. For that, they needed to see Forge.

After having breakfast with Laura and then walking her to her first class of the day, Logan ended up back in the training rooms, watching from the control center as Scott conducted a combat training class. (Hijack was right. Scott would never stop the combat training classes.) Illyana was on the floor with Scott, and it surprised Logan how much he wanted to be on the ground too. He itched to fight by Cyclops’s side, even if this was only a simulation. He observed how Cyclops and Magik worked together. Their fighting was seamless, much like how he and Cyclops used to be. It spoke of a long familiarity. Beside him, Tempus was running the simulation. 

“Here,” she said, probably noticing how intensely he was watching the session below. “You might as well learn how this works.” 

Logan gave her a sideways glance as she gestured at the controls. 

“You’ll be running these sims soon enough,” she told him. “Even if you don’t want to design them.”

Logan nodded. Tempus was probably right. He joined her at the main control panel where she began pointing out the different functions of the controls. It didn't take Logan long to get a hang of things. As he originally suspected, the set-up was similar to the one in Graymalkin, which made him wonder who designed it since Beast certainly hadn’t done so. 

“Forge’s handiwork?” Logan questioned, adjusting the intensity level of the battle scenario below. 

Eva nodded. “Pretty much everything here is Forge’s handiwork,” she confirmed. 

“It’s funny you should say that,” Logan commented. “Been here two weeks now and I haven’t seen him at all.”

“That’s not surprising,” Eva replied. “The guy’s turned into a total recluse. Stays in his lab all the time. The only person he really deals with is Scott. That, and Scott has him on some super-secret special assignment. I don’t think I’ve seen Forge in a month.” 

“You don’t know what that’s about?”

Eva laughed and shook her head. “I'm not that high up in the pecking order,” she said. “The only people who would know are Forge, Magik and Magneto.” She paused and dropped her voice, even though they were the only two people in the room. “I think it has something to do with the shipments that have been coming in late at night. The Extinction Team brings them in. That started about a month ago.” 

“The Extinction Team?” Logan repeated. 

“That’s Cyclops’s team,” Eva explained. “Cyclops, Magneto, Magik, Sabretooth, Monet and Martinique.” 

“Ya mean the black ops team,” Logan clarified. 

Eva shrugged. “They do what needs to be done,” she stated matter-of-factly.

Logan was impressed by the younger woman’s cool. Eva wasn’t defensive at his insinuation. She merely took it in stride, which meant that she believed the Extinction Team was necessary. Logan wondered if everyone in Eden was on board with Scott’s more extreme methods. It certainly seemed like they were. Everywhere he turned, he was greeted by solidarity and a sense of community; mutants living together peacefully, even ones whose history indicated that they should be at each other’s throats. This was all Scott’s doing. Scott may have become more radical and isolationist, but he’d built something here, something worth protecting. 

“You’ve really bought into this whole Eden thing,” Logan observed. “Into Scott’s vision.”

That comment earned him a look from Tempus. “Truthfully, I can’t really remember what life was like before Eden,” she said. “Before my mutation. If Cyclops and Magik hadn’t rescued me, I don’t know what would’ve happened to me. Everyone on my teams feels the same way. We owe Scott everything.” 

“And you repay him with loyalty.” 

Eva shrugged again. “You can call it that if you want,” she said. “But what I feel has gone way beyond a debt. It’s not like it was hard for Scott to win us over. I’ve always believed in him and what he does here.” 

“Careful, Eva,” Logan warned her a little teasingly. “That girlhood crush is starting to show.” 

Eva flashed him a flirtatious smile. “I wasn’t trying to hide it, Wolverine,” she teased right back. “Scott’s an attractive man who’s only gotten better with age. But you’d know all about that,” she added, giving him a pointed look. “My point is, for someone who dislikes socializing as much as he does, he’s very charismatic.” 

“A natural leader,” Logan supplied. 

“And he doesn’t lead out of fear or intimidation,” Eva went on. “Not the way Magneto does. Cyclops is different. He isn’t as black and white as people would like to think.” 

_He isn’t Charles or Erik_ , Logan silently thought. He’s somewhere in between. Maybe the best of both those charismatic, ideological men. And maybe Scott would take the mutant race farther than either of them ever could.

* * * * *

After the session, Logan met Cyclops in the showers.

“Care to join me?” Scott asked, walking by him wearing nothing but a towel. 

“Next time,” Logan said. It was a tad early, but he’d snagged a beer from the commissary. He popped it open now with one of his claws. “What’s next on the schedule?” he asked, above the sound of the spray. His senses told him that they were the only ones in the locker room. 

“We’re meeting with Forge,” Scott answered.

Five minutes later, Scott stepped out of the shower, skin still damp from the steam. Logan silently appreciated the sight. Eva was right. Scott had only grown more attractive with age. 

“So, I finally get to see Forge’s super-secret lab?” Logan asked to distract himself from the other man as he dressed. 

“I don’t know about super secret,” Scott said, buttoning his shirt. 

“Eva made it sound like Forge is doing some super-secret stuff for you,” Logan went on. 

“Eva likes a bit of cloak and dagger,” Scott replied. He sat down beside Logan to put on his shoes. When he was done, he took what was left of Logan’s beer and finished it. Logan tossed the empty bottle into a nearby recycling unit. 

“I have something important to show you,” Scott said, turning to face Logan. “Hold off judgment on what you see until I explain what’s going on.”

 _This was it,_ Logan thought. The secrets of Eden were finally being revealed. 

“Forge _is_ doing something super-secret for you,” Logan pressed. 

Scott sighed. “Yeah,” he admitted. “He is.”

* * * * *

Scott led them deeper into the mountainside bunker than Logan had ever been before. He was shown the main hanger, which housed two Blackbirds and other light aircraft. The hanger opened directly underground. But Scott took them far deeper than the hanger, through a secure door that had both a keypad and a biometric scan.

“Who else has access to this area?” Logan asked, when they’d entered. 

“Forge, Magik and Magneto,” Scott answered. 

_Eva had been correct in her assessment_ , Logan thought. Those four were Scott’s top advisers, Cyclops’s inner circle.

Logan didn’t have much sense of the room they’d entered except that it was big. Very, very big. Then Scott flipped a switch to put on the lights and Logan’s breath was literally taken away. _Now_ he understood why Scott had asked him to hold off on his ‘judgment.’ 

In front of Logan, lined up in three neat columns as though they were fresh off the factory floor was an army of mutant-hunting Sentinels. He gave Scott a sharp look, even as he willed himself to stay calm. He’d spent so much time fighting Sentinels that these machines provoked an almost Pavlovian response in him, and he had to curb the urge to unsheathe his claws and lobotomize the damn things. 

“They’re deactivated,” Scott told him. “They’re harmless.” 

“Ain’t nothing harmless about having an army of Sentinels parked underneath Eden,” Logan replied, his voice tight. “I know ya told me to hold off judgment, so ya better start explaining.” 

Scott walked forward into the room and Logan reluctantly followed. Even deactivated, the machines creeped him out. What the fuck was Scott doing with them?

“We started off with one,” Scott said, stopping in front of the Sentinel in the center. “Forge found it here under lock and key, but it was in pieces. Curiosity, of course, got the better of him, and with my permission, he began to rebuild it. But during the rebuilding process, he discovered that it wasn’t just any Sentinel – it was a Master Mold.”

“This story ain’t reassuring me, Cyke,” Logan said warningly. 

“I know,” Scott said, turning to face him. “But the story’s not yet finished.” He looked back at the great machine. “The Sentinel program was deactivated years ago by the U.S. government and most other governments around the world. There was no point in straining defense budgets when there were so few mutants left to hunt. Mutants were no longer considered a threat.” 

Scott began walking down the column of Sentinels, dwarfed by the giant robots on either side. Once again, Logan followed, the sound of his cane striking the metal floor echoing loudly to him.

“But what do you do with machines that cost millions of dollars to manufacture when the government no longer wants them?” Scott questioned. 

“Decommission them?” Logan offered, somewhat sarcastically. “They can turn these things into giant scrap heaps for all I care.” 

“What if we could do something more productive with them?” Scott said. 

It was a question that made Logan uneasy. “I s’ppose that’s what you’ve done?” he asked warily. 

“These Sentinels have been or are in the process of being re-purposed,” Scott confirmed. “When Forge rebuilt the Master Mold, he also re-designed it. These Sentinels don’t hunt mutants anymore. They’ve been improved in their abilities and they’re made to protect us – from all threats, human or otherwise.” 

“But to what end?” Logan queried. “Protect us from what? Nobody even knows that yer here.” Logan was referring to Scott personally, but also to Eden. The place was practically a myth. Even Logan hadn’t believed that it was actually real. 

“Not for long,” Scott said, stopping suddenly.

Logan braced himself for what Scott was going to say next. Scott may have wanted to show him the Sentinels, but now Logan understood that these giant robots were a means to an end. Scott had an even bigger end game in mind. He had a vision of the future that he was going to create, and these machines were going to help him do it. 

“Eden is a sanctuary,” Scott told him. “But a sanctuary shouldn’t be a secret. Forge estimates that there are around only 200 to 300 mutants left in the entire world. That’s not enough to keep our species going. Mutants will die out within a generation. If that’s the case, we’re not going to die cowering in fear or in hiding. We’ll go out on our own terms.” 

Scott paused and Logan could feel the weight of the other man’s gaze. 

“Eden has the resources and the facilities to protect what’s left of our race,” he stated. “And I’m going to call everyone here. I’m going to make Eden public.” 

Before Logan could take that proclamation in, Scott kept right on going. 

“I’ve been in talks with the Canadian government. They’ve always been more tolerant…more _welcoming_ …of mutants than their American counterparts,” Scott went on. “They’re willing to cede this land to us so that we can become an independent mutant nation.”

Logan’s mind was reeling. An independent mutant nation. It hadn’t been done before, barring Genosha when Magneto and his forces had wrestled control of the small country and overturned the mutant slavery happening there. To say that Genosha had ended badly would have been a gross understatement. There was also Madripoor, but the tiny island nation in Southeast Asia was notorious for being a hotbed of criminal activity and was hardly a good comparison. Logan had spent his share of time there so he would know. No, what Scott was suggesting was something unheard of. And unlike Genosha or Madripoor, Cyclops would be the one in control.

“And what does the Canadian government get in exchange?” Logan questioned. It was too unbelievable to think that the Canadians would simply give up the land for nothing. 

“Magneto has raised quite a bit of capital,” Scott explained. “We’ll pay for most of the land.” 

“And the rest?” Logan pressed. 

At this, Scott pursed his lips together and Logan grew wary again. So, there _was_ a catch. 

“The rest is more like an exchange. We’ll barter our resources and abilities.” 

“Meaning?” 

“Meaning, we’ll help the Canadian government.” 

“You mean you’ll _work_ for the Canadian government,” Logan translated. “Isn’t that what Alpha Flight is for?”

Scott managed a small smile at Logan’s joke. “No,” he said, with a shake of his head. “We won’t be working _for_ the Canadians. We’ll be _collaborating_ with them. Just because we’re based out of an old Weapon X facility doesn’t mean I’m going to turn us into Weapon X. And before you ask, yes. They’re aware I have enough firepower to obliterate them, even without the Sentinels. Our _powers_ are what have made us hated and feared for so long. The Canadians would rather be our allies than our enemies, Logan. And we can be very powerful allies.” 

Logan remained silent. As usual, the strategist in Cyclops had thought things through. Except, there was one important detail that hadn’t been brought up… 

“S.H.I.E.L.D. thinks you’re dead,” he stated. “When you go public as the face of Eden –” 

“Nation X,” Scott interrupted. 

“What?” 

“When we go public,” Scott explained. “This place will be known as Nation X.” 

Logan nodded. “Good name,” he said approvingly. 

“Thanks.” 

Nation X.

That’s why Illyana had commented that their uniforms might soon have an ‘X’ on them. ‘X’ for X-Men (because Logan would never _not_ be able to think of Scott as an X-Man) and ‘X’ as a member of Nation X. 

“Going back to S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Logan continued. “Won’t putting yerself in the spotlight put you _back_ on their terror watch list? Isn’t there an outstanding arrest warrant for you?” 

Logan found Scott’s smile slightly unnerving. Cyclops was always so calm, always in control, of himself, and of the situation. 

“Director Hill and I have come to an understanding,” he said. 

“Enlighten me.” 

“I took her out to dinner.” 

“You _slept_ with Maria Hill?”

“No,” Scott corrected. “I took her out to dinner. Several dinners,” he amended. “That, and I helped her find a mole that was selling S.H.I.E.L.D. secrets to the highest bidder, including some very classified and dangerous proprietary technology. Turns out the mole was a mutant. Since it was a mutant problem, Maria Hill let me deal with it, and in return, she took me off the terror watch list.” 

“Well, that’s just peachy,” Logan replied. “Doesn’t mean Hill’s going to be pleased ta find out ya have an army of Sentinels parked in your backyard.” 

The expression on Scott’s face gave Logan pause. 

“What? You mean she _knows_?” he said incredulously.

“She does more than ‘know,’” Scott admitted, almost sheepishly. “After the Sentinel program was terminated, some of the machines and their parts found their way onto the black market. It was too dangerous to let that kind of technology and its applications fall into the wrong hands. Maria Hill has been helping me track down the wayward tech and major parts in order to consolidate everything here.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Scott,” Logan almost exploded. “Everyone thinks that S.H.I.E.L.D. is gunning for ya and yer telling me yer in bed with _Maria Hill_?” 

“I’m not literally in bed with her,” Scott said so seriously that Logan almost laughed. He supposed it was an important detail to highlight, especially given _their_ relationship.

“It has its advantages for people to think we’re at odds with each other,” Scott went on. 

“Plausible deniability,” Logan translated. “Do ya take care of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s dirty laundry too, when the good guys like Captain America can’t get involved?” 

Scott took Logan’s jab in stride. “You know as well as I do that S.H.I.E.L.D. has their own black ops,” he said. “Director Hill and I merely help each other out. We’re very…discreet.” 

Logan was leaning heavily on his cane. He would’ve sat down if he could. This was _a lot_ to take in. No wonder Scott had waited so long before telling him anything. His lover had more shades of gray than Logan could ever have imagined, walking the fine line between allies and enemies. This news also made him apprehensive when he remembered the package that Scott was getting from Abigail Brand. What _else_ did Scott have in store?

“I know this is a lot to take in,” Scott said, as if he were reading Logan’s thoughts. 

“You’re not fucking kidding, Cyke,” Logan said. “And we haven’t even seen Forge yet,” he added. 

“Well, I didn’t want to interrupt such an intense conversation,” a familiar voice joined in. 

Logan inwardly cursed. He was really losing a step if his senses hadn’t picked up when Forge had entered the room. He turned around just in time to see the reclusive mutant walk toward them, coming from the same direction as he and Scott. 

As to be expected, Forge was older. There were a few more lines on his face and the jet-black hair that Logan remembered now had a smattering of gray at the temples. But like Scott, Forge still looked very fit. No beer belly or expanding gut for the genius inventor. 

“Hello, Logan,” Forge said calmly, extending a hand to him. 

Logan almost raised an eyebrow at Forge’s formality. He didn’t remember _that_ , but he shook the proffered hand. “Forge,” he said, perhaps a bit too curtly.

“I’d say you’re looking well,” Forge went on. “But I’ve seen your scans so I know how looks can be deceiving.” 

Before Logan could ask what Forge meant by that, the other man had already turned to Scott. “I suppose you’re here to check on the machine,” he commented. 

“Is it ready?” Scott asked in return. 

“Yes,” Forge confirmed, walking between the two men. “Do you want to see it now?” 

“No time like the present,” Scott replied. 

Forge nodded and continued to walk down the column of Sentinels. Scott didn’t immediately follow, but stepped towards Logan instead. 

“Do you want to do this now?” Scott asked. “We _can_ see it later,” he offered.

“Is it gonna be any worse than ambushing me with an army of Sentinels?” 

When Scott didn’t smile at his joke, Logan’s own good humor vanished. “Really?” he questioned, tapping down on his concern. 

“Well, it’s not good,” Scott admitted. 

Logan sighed, the sound mirroring the look of semi-resignation on Scott’s face. “You always were a glass half-empty kinda guy,” he pointed out, slipping his free arm around Scott’s waist and nudging the other man in the direction that Forge had gone. Logan wanted the proximity, but he also needed the support. “It was always ‘Hope for the best, prepare for the worst’ with you.” 

“That’s funny,” Scott replied, mirroring Logan’s gesture. “I always thought it was just ‘Prepare, prepare, prepare.’” 

“That too,” Logan agreed with a half-chuckle. Cyclops and his multiple contingency plans. That hadn’t changed with time.

* * * * *

Forge led them to another part of the mountain bunker that Logan hadn’t seen before. It gave him time to mull over Scott’s revelations. The other man was right. Eden, as a facility, was big enough to house the remaining mutants and their families the world over. And if they purchased the surrounding land, they’d also be able to build _outside_ of the mountain bunker and not have to worry about being discovered since Eden – correction, Nation X – would no longer be a secret. Thanks to Forge’s defense system and the massive, intimidating Sentinels, they’d also be able to protect themselves against an attack. (Who would be foolish enough to attack them with a Sentinel force guarding them? Logan had to admit that the giant robots were an excellent deterrent or a pre-emptive weapon, depending on how one chose to look at it.) Logan couldn’t still wrap his head around the scope of what Scott was planning, just like he couldn’t quite imagine a world where Sentinels _didn’t_ hunt mutants down. But he suspected that the more he thought about it, the more the idea would settle with him. Could he imagine raising Laura in an environment like that? Would it be good for her? Would she be safe? And what were the alternatives anyway?

Logan was less certain about Scott’s tactics, however, and the underhanded deals and the shades of gray that the other man lived in now. It was disconcerting to think that Scott didn’t have his unwavering loyalty, not the way that Magik had it, Tempus, Triage, or possibly even Magneto. But that could change too. He’d always trusted Scott’s instincts as a leader, and he’d never doubted that Scott always had their species’ best interests at heart. It’s just that somewhere along the way, their methods and their priorities had changed.

When Forge finally stopped in a large concrete industrial laboratory, Logan almost froze. He recognized the room, even though it wasn’t the same place. But the layout and the design were similar, and there was no mistaking the tub that was in the room’s center, or the monstrous needles connected to what had once been stores of adamantium that had been injected directly into his skeleton in order for the indestructible metal to bond with him. Logan hadn’t thought that he would survive the procedure, and he certainly never imagined that he’d subject himself to it willingly again. Of course, Stryker and his cronies would have other labs like this in other Weapon X facilities. Laura’s code number was X-23. His adult clone was X-24. How many other times and how many other groups had tried to make another Wolverine?

Logan stopped on the second level of the laboratory, on the balcony overlooking the operating floor and its control panel. Scott automatically stopped with him, even as Forge climbed down the steel stairs to the main floor below. 

“Fuck,” Logan muttered. He glanced at Scott, who looked deeply unhappy. “Now I know why you didn’t want to tell me about this,” he said. 

Scott sighed. “The system was already here,” he explained. “There’s a remarkable amount of liquid adamantium that was left behind when the Weapon X scientists vacated. I’m surprised that such a valuable and rare commodity would get overlooked like that.” 

“Ya sure there’s nothing wrong with the stuff?” 

“Forge has run the proper tests,” Scott replied. “It’s all viable.” 

“Are you two coming down here or what?” Forge called up to them. 

Scott gestured somewhat impatiently at him and Forge lifted a placating hand. 

“We better go down there,” he told Logan. “You know what Forge is like when he’s built a new machine. He’s itching to try it out.”

“And you’ve been reining him in?” Logan suggested, as they walked down the steps. 

“It’s what I do,” Scott agreed. 

Forge was standing by the empty tub when Scott and Logan joined him. There was a gleam in his eye when he looked at the other two men. The inventor was in his element. 

“So,” he said, and Logan could hear the excitement in the other man’s voice. “I’m sure you’re familiar with this,” he said to Logan, gesturing at the tub and its horrific needles. 

“Being ripped apart is one of my fondest memories,” Logan deadpanned back. Beside him, Scott shook his head with a small smile, but Logan’s black humor completely washed over Forge who steamed ahead with his explanation. 

“Right,” Forge said. “So, since the system was pretty much intact when I found it together with that ridiculous supply of liquid adamantium, I decided to reverse engineer the process, which is really a lot harder than it sounds. The polarity alone of the –” 

“Like we’re four,” Scott interrupted.

Forge halted his explanation to shoot Cyclops an annoyed look. “You suck all the fun out of this,” he complained. “How else am I supposed to impress you with my genius?” 

“I remain in a constant state of amazement,” Scott replied, so dryly that Logan couldn’t help but chuckle.

The give and take between the two men spoke of a long familiarity. Logan could see why Forge was part of Scott’s inner circle, a notable feat given that the Forge Logan remembered wasn’t really known for his loyalty and had even gone through several bouts of madness. (There was something to be said for walking the fine line between genius and insanity. Forge had been known to cross that line.) Scott, somehow, not only kept the inventor in line but also kept him on an even keel.

“Right,” Forge said again, matching Scott’s dry tone. “As I was saying, I reverse engineered the process. And for you four-year olds, the challenge is getting the poison out of Logan’s bloodstream without ripping him apart. Basically, I had to find a bonding molecule that would attract the adamantium in his bloodstream and wherever else the poison has latched onto – organs, tissue – while also calibrating the machine so that his skeleton isn’t completely zapped along with it. I can’t do anything about the adamantium in the skeleton – that’s here to stay – but with his healing factor as low as it is, this process could literally kill him. And even if it doesn’t, it’s gonna hurt like a sonofabitch.” 

Scott nodded thoughtfully. “I understood that,” he said. 

“Yeah,” Logan agreed. “Pain, more pain, possibly death. That about sum it up?” 

Forge gave both men a withering look. “Totally unappreciated,” he muttered. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Scott said to Logan. 

“Actually, he does,” Forge interrupted. 

Logan could almost feel Scott’s gaze narrow as the other man looked at Forge sharply. “You told me that you designed an implant to monitor the levels of adamantium poisoning,” he reminded Forge. 

“Yeees,” Forge said, dragging out the word. “But that’s just a stop-gap. Logan needs to undergo the procedure or the poison will eventually kill him.” 

“Explain,” Scott ordered in what Logan recognized as the Cyclops-don’t-fuck-with-me-tone. 

Forge must’ve recognized the tone too because he straightened almost imperceptibly, like a military man standing at attention. (It was his military background that was responding to the tone of command.)

“Well, I don’t have access to any data before Logan got here,” Forge began. “But based on what you told me, the origin of the poisoning started over a year ago in Westchester.” Forge stumbled a little at saying the name of their old home, but quickly recovered. “The poison’s been working through Logan’s system over the course of a year, breaking down his body and slowing his healing factor to the point where it could no longer keep up with the injuries that Logan sustained. In essence, Logan became mortal. Hence, killable.” Forge paused and took a deep breath. “Triage can work miracles, but he can’t sustain them.” Forge looked at Scott for emphasis. “You know as well as I do that he can’t restore necrotic tissue. What he’s done with Logan is really nothing short of a miracle, a real testament to the limits of Triage’s power, but it’s not sustainable.” Forge gestured at Logan’s bad knee. “That gimpy leg? That’s just the start. Logan’s body will begin breaking down again and based on the latest set of scans, that breakdown will be exponential, not linear. Exponential is the bad one,” he added. “I guess there’s a higher price to pay for being brought back from the dead.”

Beside Logan, Scott had become preternaturally still. “Forge, could you give us a minute?” he eventually said. 

“Sure,” Forge agreed, drifting in the direction of the control panel to do some tinkering. 

When Forge was a discreet distance away, Scott looked at Logan and said, “That’s not what I was expecting to hear.” 

“I s’ppose it’s relative compared to a Sentinel army and the lives of all the mutants left in the world,” Logan offered. 

Scott didn’t even smile at Logan’s attempt at humor. 

“C’mon, Cyke,” Logan said. “What else are we gonna do? It is what it is.”

“And that’s it?” Scott said. “You’re just going to get back into that tub and let Forge zap you?” 

“I’m not seeing any other options here,” Logan pointed out. “Unless letting the poison overtake my system _exponentially_ is on the table.” 

Scott remained silent, his expression troubled. 

“Hey,” Logan said, touching the other man on the arm. “Let’s just get this over with.” 

“You mean _now_?” Scott said, a little incredulously. 

“Why wait?” 

Scott actually looked flustered. 

“Hey, Forge,” Logan called over to the other man. “You ready to do this now?”

“Of course!” Forge called back. The anticipation was back in the other man’s voice. He always got like that when he was about to try one of his machines. He began to walk back towards them. 

“Wait,” Scott said. “Let’s step back for a moment.” 

Forge slowed his steps, but joined them nonetheless, his attention focused on Scott. Logan realized for the first time that Scott was afraid, truly afraid for him. 

“Hey,” Logan said, once more touching Scott’s arm. “I’m not going to die on you. I’ve been through worse.” 

“You probably have,” Forge agreed. “But not with your healing factor on the fritz.”

Logan almost glared at the other man. That was not the most comforting thing to say to someone who already had his doubts. 

“We need Triage here,” Scott stated. Logan could literally see the strategist in his lover working through the problem. “He could boost Logan’s healing factor during the procedure. Would that be safe for Triage?” he asked Forge.

It was Forge’s turn to look thoughtful. “I hadn’t considered that,” the inventor admitted. “It _is_ a good idea,” he agreed. “But Triage’s power requires direct contact.” Forge began to trail off, his mind working the different angles and implications of adding a new component. “I’ll have to make some modifications so that Triage could touch Logan without disrupting the balance of the bonding agent.” 

“Won’t the bonding agent be injected directly into Logan’s bloodstream?” Scott queried, proving that he had understood more of Forge’s explanation than Logan. 

“It will be,” Forge confirmed. “But the water of the bath has also been chemically treated. Nobody was supposed to be touching the stuff while the procedure was happening.” 

Scott nodded. “Ladies?” he said. 

Just like that Logan knew that Scott had contacted the Cuckoos and was having a telepathic conversation with them. There was a brief pause before Scott continued. 

“Contact Triage. Tell him to meet me in my office now.” Scott looked at Forge again. “When will these modifications be ready?” 

“Give me a day to figure something out,” Forge replied. “This shouldn’t be too difficult. Perhaps I can find a way to boost Triage’s power as well. Tell him to come see me.” 

“Better yet,” Scott suggested. “Why don’t _you_ come with me? You can fill Triage in on what’s happening better than I could anyway.” 

“Like he’s a four-year old?” Forge deadpanned. 

Scott’s good humor was back. 

“Exactly,” he agreed.

**Author's Note:**

> The merry mutants belong to Marvel and Fox. No infringement is intended; no profit is being made.


End file.
